


Spider and the Witch

by Erica45



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, Big Sister Wanda Maximoff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Infinity Stone Soul World (Marvel), Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Protective Pepper Potts, Protective Tony Stark, Protective Wanda Maximoff, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Wanda Maximoff & Peter Parker Friendship, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, i think, it's taking a whle to write this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-01-14 15:40:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18479254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erica45/pseuds/Erica45
Summary: Peter had no idea what was going on. He’d woken up here, on this... expanse of shallow, open water. Ghosts faded and flicked around him.  He wondered if he was one of them.The only thing that he did know was that he was the only one there.But then he wasn’t.He didn’t know you could gain a sibling after dying.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know where this fic came from. i was trying to sleep some nights ago and ended up typing a scene out on my phone. After that i had to finish it lol
> 
> i hope you guys like it :)

The first time that Peter had meet the Scarlet Witch, she was chucking cars at him. It was in Germany and neither of them were particularly in the mindset to get to know anyone. Well, Peter maybe, he was even friendly enough to chat villains up during a battle. Not that the Scarlet Witch was a villain, but to be fair he been fighting her at that moment. 

The point being that they were aware of each other but didn't actually talk till their world had ended.

–––––––

Peter’s eyes snapped open and he gasped, scrambling to sit up. His hands flew to his chest and he patted himself down, making sure that everything was attached. 

“Not dust,” he murmured and looked at his hands. The glittering metal of the Iron Spider suit looked back at him. Two hands and ten fingers. Dumbly, he blinked, noticing that he was trembling.

God it hurt.

He closed his eyes and tightly laced his fingers together. Echos of pain shot through his frame as his cells tried to align. Everything felt off, pins and needles, but through his whole body. He sniffed and wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing. God, he wanted this to stop. His gut rolled and images of crumbling people flashed in the darkness of his mind.

The no-egg-alien-lady, the big tattooed one, Quill, Doctor Strange, Mr–

“Mr. Stark!” Peter yelped and scrambled to his feat. Mr. Stark bad been right there. Had held him as he… faded. Was he here, too? Wait, where's here?

He looked around and swallowed thickly. He had no idea where he was. The sky was orange and looked like a sunset but in every direction–except there was no sun. Just an overcast of marmalade light. 

Turning in place, he looked around but was distracted when something sloshed. Looking down, Peter noticed that he was standing in shallow water, as orange as the sky above him. Well that made sense. Water didn't actually have a pigment. Oceans just look blue because they reflect the sky. Or stuff in it, like, plankton makes it look green…

Peter shook himself. You can think of science after you figure out what's going on, he told himself sourly.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, he projected his voice as loud as he could. “Hello? Is anyone there?” 

Lowing his arms, Peter strained his ears as a echo bounced around him, but it fell flat far quicker then it should over a water plain. Frowning, he tried again, raising his voice to the point of cracking. Still nothing. If anything, the sounds around him seemed to mute and pull at him. Suddenly, he felt heavy and oppressed by the silence. He fidgeted and was about to try again when a voice whispered behind him.

“Who–what?” he sputtered and snapped around. There was no one there. Nothing. A flat ocean still surrounded him. Wait, no. Shapes started to form around him. Dark shadows flickered into place. Squeaking, he jumped away and watched, wide eyed as they became more defined. They looked like people, but transparent and faded, their colours muted.

“Kid,” a voice whispered beside his ear and Peter squawked, spinning around. He blinked as a shape wavered into being. It looked like he was looking at a mirage, rippled and distorted, but he recognized who it was.

“Doctor Strange!” he exclaimed. “Thank god. Do you know where we are? I was just on that planet, the red one. It’s name was Titan, right ? We lost and everyone turned to dust. I did, too, then I’m here and there’s no one else but those shadowy people. You look like that, too. Did you know that? You don’t look solid–”

“Kid.” Doctor Strange leveled him with a flat look and raised brow. Peter’s mouth clicked shut. The wizard stared at him for a moment before explaining. “I have a theory of where we are. I’m guessing that we’re in the Soul Stone–”

“The Soul Stone?” Peter interrupted. “Isn’t that one of the Infinity Stones you were talking about? How can we be in it? Wha–shutting up now,” Peter amended with a sheepish smile. 

“Uh huh.” Doctor Strange’s unimpressed look didn’t change as he continued. “You can say the Soul Stone or Soul World, either works. It’s a space inside the stone, and yes, it’s one of the infinity stones. And before you point it out, yes, the stone itself is small, but this is probably a dimensional pocket that we’re inhabiting.”

“Like the Tardis,” Peter pointed out, then slapped his hands over his mouth. 

Doctor Strange stared at him for a uncomfortable moment, then continued, “Yes, like the Tardis, but we don’t have a front door.” He looked around them, roaming the passing shadows before sighing heavily. “But it’s a strain mentally and physically to be here. That’s why everyone else isn’t… solid.”

“Why am I? Wait, no. I’m probably just solid to myself. Like I can feel myself cause I am me so why can’t I? We’re all solid for ourselves and–”

“No.”

“What?” his head snapped around and he blinked owlishly at him.

Doctor Strange sighed and held up a hand. His being wavered and shook, semi-transparent. He regarded it silently, his eyes pinched and heavy. “I look the same as you see me. I’m barely here. I’m only able to keep my conscious because of my training at Kamar-Taj. I have more discipline then the people you see around us.”

Peter blinked and glanced around at the shapes. There were hundreds if not thousands flickering in and out. They were really transparent, too. If he was looking at this in an editing program, their opacity would be near zero. Swallowing, he asked quietly, “These are all people?”

Doctor Strange sighed heavily. “I’m afraid so. He did it. Thanos whipped out half of everything. Half of everyone. Across every galaxy and every planet.”

Peter covered his mouth and stumbled away. Slowly, he lowered himself into a crouch. His fingers tightened over his face and his stomach rolled. “Earth?” he whispered and his eyes flicked up to the man. 

The lines around Doctor Strange face deepened and his form flickered. He nodded and Peter’s eyes closed. “We should have stopped this.”

“Peter–”

“No, we were right there! I almost had it off! But–” He cut himself off and groaned, rubbing his face. “I get it. Really, I do. I probably would have lost it, too, if Ben’s–” He hissed in a breath and popped up, starting to pace. 

“This was the only way,” Doctor Strange told him quietly. He stood still as Peter walked around in front of him, his eyes not leaving him.

“You said that,” Peter snapped then inhaled sharply. “No, sorry. I don’t–” He closed his eyes. He jiggled his leg and looked back to Doctor Strange, his mouth opening, but he frowned instead. “You’re less.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, that’s not–” Peter sputtered. “It’s just your shape–you–you’ve faded more.”

“Ah.” Doctor Strange looked down at his hands and watched his shape fluctuate. He suddenly got a faraway look and blinked heavily, his transparency dipping again.

“Wait, nononono.” Peter jumped forwards, his hands hovering. “Doctor Strange, please stay with me.”

“I’m fine,” Doctor Strange hissed back and shook his head violently, breathing through his nose. Peter pressed his lips into a line and watched nervously as the man’s form slowly regained some of its colour and definition.

When he was almost halfway solid, Peter asked, his voice quiet, “Are you back?”

“For now. Sorry, I was losing focus. It’s getting harder to keep myself here,” he admitted. He rubbed a shaky hand over his face and ended up pinching the arch of his nose. His chest expanded then shook from the force of his exhale.

Peter gnawed nervously on his lip, then something struck him. “Wait. You said that I’m solid to you.”

Doctor Strange opened his eyes and regarded him. “Not those exact words but yes.”

“Why am I not a mirage?”

“That–I’m not positive on,” he admitted. “You should be less here then I am, but then again, it took you longer to arrive than anyone else.”

“Really?” he asked offhandedly, a sudden shiver rolling through him. He ignored it. “How long?”

“Time is different here,” Doctor Strange informed him. “It’s impossible to know.” 

“Right.” Peter was thankful that he didn’t turn his question back to him. He’d rather not think of it.

Doctor Strange observed him for a moment then asked, “Do you have a healing factor? Or enhanced senses?”

Peter looked up at him and frowned. “Yeeessss? Yes. Why?”

Doctor Strange hummed and looked him over, and Peter’s heart lurched when his form flickered again but quickly returned. “This is just an hypothesis but I’m assuming that your body, or more likely, your senses, are keeping you ‘solid’. You’re healing yourself faster then this place can break you down. Do you feel tired for a bit then come back to yourself?”

Peter pursed his lips and thought about it. Yeah, actually, he had been. During their conversation, he’d had to blink a couple of times to focus. He mulled that over for a moment then looked over at the sorcerer again. “Sooooo, what do we do now?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Peter squeaked. “What do you mean nothing? There’s always something that we can be–”

“Not here there isn’t,” Doctor Strange interrupted tensely. “My magic doesn't work in this realm. It functions by pulling on the forces around me. The only thing here is the Soul Stone and I can’t affect that without another stone.”

Peter made a noise in the back of his throat and glared at him. “Then what can we do?”

Doctor Strange just shook his head. “Wait. They will get us out of here. Be patient.”

Peter groaned and started pacing again, linking his hands behind his head. Patient. Fine. He could do that. Be patient in this… his gaze flicked around the flat, orange expanse around him. Yeah, no, this is going to suck. 

He groaned then perked up. “Who’s they?”

“Whoever is left.” 

Peter released his hands and stared at him. Flashes of Germany flicked in front of his eyes. Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Falcon. “Do you know who is?”

Doctor Strange shook his head at his near inaudible question. “I’m not a hundred percent sure. The only one that I was aware of was Stark.”

A weight lifted off his shoulders and Peter grinned. “So he’s going to get us out.” Of course he would. He was Tony Stark. 

Doctor Strange on the other hand remained impassive and observed him silently. “Possibly,” he admitted, leveling him with a look Peter couldn’t place. 

Finally, he nodded and turned towards the expanse around them. They stood silently for a moment, watching the shadows pass by. Men, women, some odd snail thing, other aliens. Peter even saw a couple of children running about. Well, he thought they were children; they could have been hobbits.

Peter didn’t know how much time passed before the Sorcerer blinked and staggered. Peter’s head snapped to him and watched as the man’s form rippled and he started to lose more of his being.

“What? What’s wrong?” Peter immediately jumped towards him, hands reaching out but not touching.

Doctor Strange huffed and straightened but a fogged look had fallen over his features. “The stone, it’s heavy.”

Peter’s lip twitched. “That doesn’t make any sense, dude.” 

“Hmm.” 

“Are you not focusing? Is there anything I can do?” Peter babbled, his heart in his throat as the man in front of him flicked and faded.

Doctor Strange blinked sleepily and frowned at him.

“Nononono.” Peter’s hands fluttered in between them. He wanted to place a hand on the man’s shoulder and shake him out of it but… he didn’t want to find out if he would go through him or not. “Come on, Doctor Strange, stay with me. You want me to talk about something? I can say something for you to focus on. Would that help?”

The man didn’t answer. His form wavered and dimmed to the point that he was nearly transparent, a ghost, a shell of who they were. He blinked at Peter for a moment before turning and walking away. 

“Wait!” Peter surged after him, trying to keep up with him. “Don’t leave me!”

It didn’t matter. Peter tried to follow, but soon enough, the sorcerer was just another shade milling about. He ran and ran, looking for anyone that would talk to him, to see him. He might have run for days, miles on miles, and he wouldn’t have known. As Doctor Strange had mentioned, time was different here. He didn’t know, couldn’t know. Also, no matter how much he ran across the orange expanse, water splashing around him, he never got tired or hungry. It really was a different place. 

Finally, he stopped and just stood, gazing emptily out at the horizon. The shades around him had long since thinned and he didn’t even see them anymore. Well, no, he could see them, but they were so faded it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered here, he thought off handedly. There was nothing to care about. 

It was empty.

Logically, he knew that this place, the Soul World was, in fact, filled with people, filled with other souls, but he couldn’t interact with them, so he was alone.

There were some moments when he swore he heard something. 

The first time that it happened, he’d run around, calling out for them, anyone. Nothing, there was no one around. Once he accepted that he stopped, and stood quietly, listening. Someone was singing; it reminded him of the song in the Anastasia movie, when she was in the old castle. Once Upon a December. Was that it’s name? He couldn't remember exactly.

It was a little girl, he thought. A lullaby. Her voice would rise and fall around him as he listened, eyes closed. It never lasted for too long, maybe the same length as the one his mother had sung to him when he was little. He couldn’t remember exactly but it was still nice and he cherished it.

He could never tell what the girl was singing; her words were faded and garbled. Maybe by the stone itself. He wasn’t sure. What he did know was that the essence of it reached him. He couldn’t voice what it was, but each time he heard it, he was able to keep moving, searching for others, searching for her, so he wouldn't be so alone.

It was when he was taking a break from searching that he found someone. Not the little girl, he knew that, but it was _someone_.

At first it wasn’t even a person. It was something tickling at the back of his mind. A presence. He skidded to a halt and snapped his head in every direction. There was no one in sight. “Hello?” he croaked, and wow, he had not spoken in a while.

Silence echoed around him, the shades passing silently and unhindered.

He sighed and closed his eyes. Of course, no one answered him. He hadn’t seen Doctor Strange in a long time. Days, weeks, months, yea–

_“Who’s there?”_

Peter jumped, screeching. “Holy shit! Who, what, where– _what?_ ”

Peter spun in circles, looking, searching, hoping that maybe there were oth–

“ _There someone here?_ ” It was a voice. Not that he could hear it, no, not physically anyway. It was like his spidey sense, humming in the back of his head. Female, he thought, quiet and hesitant.

“Yes! Yes, I’m here!” Peter called out, spinning in place, not daring to move in any direction as to not lose this connection to someone.

“ _Where?_ ”

He snorted. “There is no where,” he muttered darkly. “Only here.”

Silence.

Heart leaping in this throat, Peter started to babble, “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know. Everything looks the same. I can’t tell you where–”

“ _Can you follow this?_ ” the voice interrupted.

“Follow wha–ooohhh, yeah, maybe.” Peter huffed and started to follow a red mist that had materialized in front of him. It was crimson and looked a line of smoke that led away from him. As he jogged after it, he noticed that it was connected to him, wrapping around his chest and towards his head. Vaguely, he figured that whoever he was talking to could hurt him, but he didn’t really care. He could be talking to the scum of the earth, but at this point, it didn’t matter. It was someone.

“ _I’m not a villain._ ” The voice was quiet, hesitant, and maybe a little defensive.

Peter jumped then began babbling, “I didn’t say you were. I didn’t even think that–ohhhh my god, I’m talking to a telepath!”

“ _Yes._ ” She–the voice was definitely female–confirmed. She sounded a little amused. That’s okay. He liked making people laugh.

“That’s so cool,” Peter grinned. “A telepath, I’m talking to a telepath. Oh my god, how does that even work? Like how deep does it go? All the way to the subconscious? Or is it just surface thoughts. Oh my god, Ned and I–” He choked and froze, stopping abruptly. Ned. May. Michelle. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. No, he wasn’t going to think about them. The last time he had, he’d taken hours (days? Weeks? How long?) to snap out of it. God, he couldn’t do this now, not when he’d found someone. Come on, Peter, snap out of it!

“ _It’s a light tap. I can only see surface thoughts_ ,” she interrupted and he blinked. “ _I thought I was the only one._ ”

“Same,” Peter admitted and he started jogging again, eyes fixed on the red smoke in front of him. Thank you, he added silently.

“ _You’re welcome._ ”

Peter grinned. “God, that’s cool. Um, is the area around you basically solid orange and has weird water everywhere?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Cool, cool, cool,” Peter muttered then perked up. “Oh, hey! I can see you!” He could; there was a shape a ways in front of him, her form dark against the horizon. He shot up one arm and waved it wildly.

“ _I as well,_ ” she thought to him, her small silhouette lifting a hand in greeting. Okay, yeah, there was definitely amusement in her tone.

Soon enough, he was he was trotting up to a woman standing with all her weight on one hip. She had a red coat on and her auburn hair floated a bit around her head. She stood there, unbothered by the shades passing, and she was _solid_. Nothing about her looked like a mirage. The only thing unordinary about her appearance was the red tendrils circling her. Her eyes were glowing a deep scarlet and–

“Oh my god! You’re the Scarlet Witch!” Peter gasped.

Her eyes dimmed to a green and they roamed over him. She regarded him for a moment, her face scrunched thoughtfully. “Spider-Man.”

“Uhh, yeah, yeah, I am.” Peter blinked and looked down. Right, he was still wearing the suit. The new suit that Mr–yeah no, not going there. He stuck out his hand. “Peter Parker.”

She blinked at him and slowly took it. “Wanda Maximoff.”

“Cool. Hi, Miss Maximoff. It's nice to meet you.”

Withdrawing her hand, her eyes widened slightly and her lips twitched into a hesitant smile. “Just Wanda.”

“Right, okay. Hi, Wanda.” 

She snorted and shook her head. Peter grinned back at her. They stared at each other for a moment. 

Okay, he’d found someone. Now what?

Wanda observed him, eyes searching. “Was there anyone else…?”

Peter grimaced, looking out around them. “No. Well, now. There was someone else. When I first… arrived here.” He paused, his eyes drifted away from her. Quickly, he shook himself and refocused. “Yeah, he was here, a wizard I think. He said that we were in the Soul Stone, but then he faded, so he's just like–” he pressed his lips together and looked away.

“The Soul Stone?” Wanda echoed, her brows lowering.

“Yeah,” Peter sighed and shrugged. “That’s what he told me. I don’t know how, not really.”

She was still watching him, a frown pulling at her lips. “So you know about the Infinity Stones? What about Thanos?”

Peter’s lip curled. “The big purple guy? Yeah, I know him. Me, Mr. S-stark, Doctor Strange, and some aliens fought him.” He paused and scowled. “We lost and he got the Time Stone.”

Confusion marred her face and she raised her hand and reached for him. Peter jerked away, hands snapping up, fingers hovering over his web-shooters. She paused but kept her hands up. “Please? I want to look at your memory. It would be easier than you explaining it to me.”

“Oh, that’s what you were doing.” Peter breathed and relaxed, offering her a hesitant smile. “Yeah, sure. That’s so cool.”

Wanda’s lip twitched into a small smirk and she pressed two fingers to his temples. He closed his eyes, expecting something, but soon enough, she drew her hands away. He frowned at her. “That is it?”

She tilted her head. “What did he mean?”

“Ummm, what did who mean?”

Wanda looked out around them, her eyes searching. “Doctor Strange. He told Stark that we’re in the endgame and that it was the only way.”

“Oh, that.” Peter blinked and followed her gaze. He could guess who she was looking for. He didn’t blame her. And hey, telepath. If they actually did find the Doctor, maybe she could pull his consciousness back. He sighed heavily. “You know how he said that he’d seen every outcome and that there was only one that we won?”

She nodded, dread creeping onto her features. Yup, he really couldn’t blame her. “I’ve thought about it since then. The only thing I can think of is that this had to happen for us to take him down.”

She stared at him, her eyes dark. Peter sighed and took it when she snarled, “This was the only way? He accepted this?” She hissed and turn away, pacing a little. Peter was reminded of when he did the same thing to Doctor Strange at the beginning. She muttered darkly in another language and stalked back to him. “People are dead and he allowed this to happen?”

Peter stared flatly back at her. “I’m no happier about this then you. I’m tired of walking past ghosts.”

She sucked in a breath and hissed it out through her teeth. She paced for a moment then came back and grabbed his head. He gasped when images and voices flashed through his mind. Captain America, the King of Wakanda and his sister, Black Widow and Vi–

She released him, stepping back. “It’s only fair. Now we’re on the same page.”

At first he didn’t say anything, all the new information overloading his brain. She’d shown him her side of the story, from when she and Vision were attacked to when she woke up here. Tears pricked at his eyes and overflowed. They dripped down Peter’s face, but he didn’t wipe them away. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, a lump forming in this throat.

Wanda sighed and lowered so she was sitting with her head in her hands. She didn’t answer at first and Peter gingerly settled down beside her. Tears still flowed unhindered down his cheeks. They weren’t his–they were hers, so he didn’t stop them. In that short moment, she’d shown him what happened on her side, the facts and events that were important, but her emotions had washed over him, too. Her despair at having to kill Vision, to her horror at watching him die all over again. She’d shown him how her body had started to dissolve and didn’t care. She had sensed that she was dying and it didn’t matter. Then she woke up here, alone.

Wait, Peter froze and looked up at her. “Your dusting…” he mumbled, then fell silent.

She sighed and sat back, her eyes heavy but dry. “What about it?”

“It didn’t hurt.” 

Wana’s gaze snapped to his and she frowned. “It was different for you?”

“Didn’t you see?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head, a frown pulling at her lips. “I stopped once Doctor Strange vanished. The next memory had a… emotional block. Important, not my place. I didn’t want to eavesdrop.”

“Right.” Oh good, the telepath had some decency. He inwardly cringed and peeked at her. Wanda’s face hadn’t changed and her eyes weren’t glowing, meaning she couldn’t hear him. He huffed a relieved sigh; that thought had been too harsh.

Although, she was still staring at him. His lips flattened and he pulled them into a mockery of a smile, looking away. 

“Peter,” she started quietly, but he still jumped to stare at her. She just said his name. Oh my god, someone said his name! When was the last time someone had said his name? The bus? He couldn't remember. Mr. Stark never used his actual name, always coming up with weird nicknames.

Her eyes still watched him as she continued, “It hurt for you?”

Peter swallowed, paused for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, it did. Hurt like hell honestly. Felt each piece crumbling.” Still does, he admitted silently. Well, hurt was the wrong term for what he was feeling now. This wasn’t really pain. It was uncomfortable and made him feel slightly unaligned. 

“Doctor Strange mentioned that it took longer for me to arrive here,” he started again. “I didn’t get it. Now I do. You, your… dusting was quick, painless. No longer then a second. I lasted for ten.” 

He chuckled darkly and shook his head. “It was ‘cause of my healing factor. I have one, and a sense that warns me of danger. I was aware that I was going to fade, just like the others. I didn’t want to though. I didn’t want to go. Didn’t matter. My body still crumbled, and I felt each piece as my body fought it, tried to keep me there.” 

Peter hummed and looked at the water that they were sitting in. He tapped his foot and watched it ripple. “It only made it take longer.”

His eyes flicked back up to her face and he realized that she was staring at him, a frown pulling her lips light. Her eyes lowered to her hands.

“I'm sorry,” he stuttered, his back straightening. “I didn't mean... I was just–”

“I was connected to my brother when he died.” Wanda's soft voice interrupted him. It had a different edge to it and Peter realized that an accent was warping it. Not unpleasantly. Actually, it was soft and whispery, falling like a blanket over his already muted senses.

He looked over at her, watched as she cleaned dirt out from under her nails. Her auburn hair was twisted over her left shoulder and she was looking down at her fingers. As if sensing him–which she probably did–her eyes flicked up to his. She regarded him silently for a moment before continuing, her accent thickening again slightly. “Ever since I got my powers, I'd been connected with him. At first he joked that it made us even closer, which being twins, was an amazing feat. It was our way of coping after a while. We leaned on each other for everything. I was never not in his mind.” 

Peter nodded slowly, not wanting to break the calm that had settled over the Witch. She sighed and continued, “He liked trying to get me to laugh when other people couldn't hear him. A couple of times our handlers thought I was insane. Laughing at nothing.” A ghost of a smile twitched at her lips. “Pietro was still doing it even in the middle of a battle.”

Peter regarded her for a moment then offered quietly, “In Sokovia?”

She dipped her head minutely before smirking. “He was monologuing about stupid robots and counting his kill score. Like in that fantasy movie with the dwarf and elf.” 

“Lord of the Rings,” Peter murmured.

She nodded and waved a hand at him. “Yes, that one.” She blew a breath out through her lips. “He finally shut up when Ultron riddled him with bullets. He pushed Clint and a little boy behind cover and took their place.” 

Wanda paused and pressed the knuckle of her thumb against her nose. She sniffed once before lowering it. “I understand what it feels like to be ripped apart, _Peter_.” The way she said his name with her accent made it sound different, more intimate and heavy with emotion. “It hurt like hell. Don't apologize for feeling your own death. That is the one thing that should never be taken from you.”

Peter watched her for a moment before mumbling, “Thank you.”

She nodded and they sat in silence. It wasn’t a bad quiet but it did weigh on them, like a heavy blanket that was a bit too warm but was comfortable enough that you didn't want to push it off.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, but in Peter Parker fashion, he soon broke it and they exchanged stories of their lives. He talked about New York and his time at Midtown. He had to explain a lot of things about the US school system since Wanda grew up in a vastly different space. 

He told stories about his family, Ned, Michelle, and May. He even shared what happened to Ben. It was only fair. He ended up crying on her shoulder. She talked about the war and her brother again, apparently when he first got his powers Pietro face planted so many times. Peter grinned and told her about his webbing fails. 

He recounted his favorite movies and stories to her once he learned that her knowledge of pop culture was next to nothing. He almost made her promise that they would watch them together, but his voice caught in his throat. She had gazed at him sadly but agreed to a movie marathon.

Time passed and sometimes they would spend it in silence, the pauses lasting longer than either of them knew. The rest of the time they chatted and Peter convinced her to teach him Sokovian. He finally got her to do it when he whined that he was bored, there was literally nothing else to do, and he liked learning–he even admitted that he missed school. She’d scoffed but then started his first lesson.

She’d gotten him to the point of basic conversations when they both fell silent. The girl was singing again. Her soft voice floated in the space between them. They’d been walking at the time and they stopped to stare at the horizon.

After listening to her for a while, Wanda murmured, “She sounds so sad.”

Peter glanced at her, noting her watery eyes and turned back to the rippling water. “Yeah,” he whispered back. 

“Do you think it’s the same song each time?” she wondered.

He shrugged.

They stood in silence and the song faded to nothing. He was just about to keep walking, keep going in this empty plane, when Wanda started her own song. Peter jumped and turned to her, noting her half-lidded eyes and the slight cock of her head. Her song was Sokovian and the rolling nature of it seemed to brighten yet somber the air around them. It was nice, even though he only understood every third word. The melody however, was repetitive enough that he could join in with a gentle hum. Her eyes flicked to his and they crinkled with a smile.

After the song had ended, she turned to him, offering to teach it to him. He smiled and nodded. After that, they sang each time the girl did. Sometimes he pictured that the three of them were a singing troupe on some stage, and when he’d open his eyes, he’d see their audience. He never did.

At one point while they were sloshing along, Peter stopped and frowned at her. “Okay, I get why I’m solid, but why are you?”

Wanda paused and chewed that over before answering, “It might because of the Mind Stone.”

“The one in Vision's head?” Wanda cringed slightly before nodding. Peter cocked his head. “Why would that affect you?”

She snorted and lifted her hand, crimson mist floating around it. “Because it made me like this.”

“Wait, the Mind Stone made you like this? The same for Pietro?”

She nodded, and her face tightened in a small wince. “When Pietro and I were sixteen, we were angry and desperate enough to allow HYDRA to experiment on us.” She paused and her eyes flicked to his. When he didn’t react, she continued hesitantly, “They had the stone and used it to make us enhanced. Pietro got speed and I got this.” She flicked her hand and the magic around her hand glowed, along with her eyes.

Peter observed her for a moment then grinned. “So you weren’t born like this?”

Wanda frowned and eyed him. “No. Why?”

“Nothing,” he said lightly then smirked. “Just, I’m the same way.”

She blinked and motioned for him to continue. Cheerfully, he launched into an explanation of his failed field trip and the spider. Thankfully, she didn’t ask any of the embarrassing questions that Ned did. Instead, it turned into an impromptu show of his abilities. He had nothing to stick to but he did walk around on his hands for a while. She cackled when he flopped onto his back with a splash. She kicked water onto him when he was down. Rude. Too bad the water didn’t really act like water otherwise they would have been completely drenched.

At some point later–they still couldn’t judge time– something happened. He had fully grasped the language by that point and Wanda’s was telling him a story from before the bombing. Apparently, a local chicken coop had broken and some of the hens had escaped. Pietro had the misfortune of being chosen as a target. Peter was laughing at the image of a chicken chasing her non-powered brother down the street when suddenly they both froze.

A creeping sensation washed down his spine and Peter snapped his head to Wanda. “Do you feel…?”

She looked equally unbalanced and had one arm hovering over her gut. “Yes,” she rasped and held up a hand. His throat caught when he noticed her skin start to flake and break off.

Peter’s throat squeezed and he choked, “No! Nononono, Wanda–сестра, please no.”

Her green eyes flashed red and she looked to him. “It’s okay.”

“No! No it’s not,” he snapped back. “Why do people keep saying that? It’s happening again. Oh god, why is it happening again?”

“It doesn't feel malicious.” She smiled softly and reached for him. He latched on to her hand, gripping tightly only for it to crumble to ashes. A strangled cry got stuck in his throat and he looked to her, wide eyes. 

She blinked down at where her hand should be and glanced back up with him. “ _It's okay, I'll see you soon,_ ” she whispered to him in Sokovian and offered a final affectionate smile before disappearing.

Peter screamed and sank to his knees. Ones that were also flaking and fading. God it hurt. He sobbed and fell onto his side, pain lacing his whole being. He stared up at the stupidly orange sky and noticed that the clouds seemed to be clearing. He clenched his jaw as the ripping, snapping, tearing, sensation climbed up his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed it all to be over.

The next thing he knew he was gasping in air, real air, and someone was hovering over him, calling his name. 

He knew that face. Even if it was cut and bloody.

He smiled sluggishly. “Hey, Mister Stark.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ok, so I am working on a new chapter since I love this little world that I'm making here. 

I have seen Endgame and know that I reject their canon for this story and I'm making my own. If you want to talk about it in the comments, feel free.

In the meantime here's a drawing that I did of these adopted siblings.

  
[holes movie length](https://movieplotholes.com/prometheus)  
" alt="Chill Time" />


	3. Returned,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter finds himself out of the Soul World and away from what's become his new normal.

*sokovian*

_~thoughts~_  
____________________

That was probably the most coherent Peter was for a while. Later they told him what happened but all he remembered was staring past Mr. Stark and at the sky above him. The white sky. He’d been unable to take his eyes away from it. Then it seemed to brighten to the point of searing his eyes out. 

He ruined his throat with his screams. 

Sounds were like harsh thunder in his ears, drowning him. Rough hands grabbed his shoulders while someone else tried to calm him. Saying that he was okay and everything was going to be fine because they’d did it, they’d won. 

His chest tightened and his cry cut off, unable to continue without air. 

“Screw it–Stark _move_.” Stark? Oh right, Peter had seen him. He’d had blood on his face.

His head throbbed and he choked on a whimper when a static like crackle washed over him and he fell into darkness.

Rousing was a long process, Peter felt like he was being slowly raised from a dark cave, lifted on a rickety platform that could drop at any moment. It should have been nerve-wracking but he wasn’t aware enough to think like that. 

Instead, he fought to open his eyes as sounds washed over him. Clanks and bangs, a hum of an engine. Unfamiliar voices. That last one wasn’t unusual; the shades all had a voice–even if it was really quiet and mainly just cries and curses. But they’d never been this clear and sounding like an actual conversation. It flitted in and out, but he got some of it.

“–till we get home?”

“You mean Terra? Dude that’s not my home.”

“Whatever, just tell me. He needs–” 

Peter’s platform slipped, and sounds faded in and out. 

Lights flashed on the other side of his eyelids. Whatever he was lying on dipped and something warm got tucked around him.

“–stop hovering. He’s going to be okay.”

“Thanks Doc, but I’m really not in the mood to listen to you at the moment, so why don’t you go play with the aliens.”

“I’d forgotten how insufferable you are. I actually miss the peace the Soul Stone gave me.”

“Don’t, don’t say that. Please, just don’t.”

“...Alright.”

He fell back into the dark. 

 

It was silent when he finally rose high enough to open his eyes. The only thing he could hear was the gentle hum of an air conditioning system and a steady beeping. That last one sounded familiar but he couldn’t place where he had heard it. 

As he became more aware, he was thankful that the lights were turned down, not too the point that it was dark, but gentle. He glanced around and found that he was in a small room filled with medical equipment. Equipment that he recognized–he was hooked up to an IV drip and the beeping was coming from a heart monitor. 

Peter stared at it for a moment, watching the bright green line zig-zag across the screen. He blinked and looked harder at it. The line–it was neon green. 

It was a colour other than orange, and that could only mean one thing–he wasn’t there anymore. He was out of the Soul Stone. He was out of that flat, empty, lifeless place. That’s what the second dusting was, it was them being brought back. She was right. It wasn’t malicious. They–

“Wanda!” Peter yelped, bolting upright, but it came out as a wheezing screech. 

“Woah! Kid, Peter! Hey, hey, hey, kid–stay down. You’re still injured.” 

Peter snapped his head around and stared openly. His jaw opened and closed soundlessly. “Mr Stark…?” he whispered, his voice scratching.

The man half out of the chair beside his bed gave a tired smile, his eyes heavy. He was in casual but rumpled clothes and had one arm in a sling. “Hey bud, you back with us?”

Peter didn’t answer him. He still blinked owlishly, keeping his eyes locked on his mentors face. 

Mr. Stark cocked his head. “I’m not sure if that’s a yes or no, kid. Also, you should lie back down. We don’t know if you’re fully healed or not.”

Peter didn’t register the request and hesitantly reached towards him. Mr. Stark frowned at his hand but took it anyway. Peter’s breath hitched and gripped back tightly. “You’re real,” he rasped.

Guilt and pain flickered behind Mr. Stark’s eyes, but then he softened and he squeezed back. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Peter nodded and sniffed, bringing his other hand up to rub at his eyes. “He was right then. You brought us back.”

“Sure.” Mr. Stark smiled. “But it was a group effort. Even had a talking racoon helping out.”

Peter snorted, “I’d like to say that I don’t believe you, but, it’s not the craziest thing that's happened.”

Mr. Stark laughed. “Can’t argue with that.”

Peter sniggered but then started to cough, his throat constricting. The hand holding his immediately let go and he fought not to claw after it. But then two seconds later, a cup was shoved in its place. He quickly downed the water that he’d handed him. When he finished, it was taken away from him.

Licking his lips, Peter watched him place the cup on the bedside table. He was tempted to ask for more but another question was more important. “What about everyone else?”

Mr. Stark glanced at him and shifted, so he was leaning back in his chair. “Returned. We got everyone back.”

Peter sagged in relief, barking a half-laugh, half-sob. “We’re home.”

Mr. Stark’s lips pulled back to show a genuine, emotion-filled smile. “You’re home.”

Peter nodded shakily, rubbing at his face. “The Rogues? Did they help with defeating him?”

Stark’s smile fell slightly, but he nodded. “Yeah, we banded together and got rid of that purple fucker.”

Peter sensed that there was a lot more to that story, but he didn’t push. Instead, something else sat at the forefront of his mind. “Where are they?”

Mr. Stark cocked his head and a frown pulled at his face. He chewed lightly on his lip and rubbed his right thumb over the one in a cast. Peter’s eyes flicked down to it but then back up to his eyes. He ignored how he was injured on the same side that Thanos had worn the gauntlet on. He knew he would get the story eventually– something else was more pressing.

Finally Stark sighed. “They’re in Wakanda right now. They might have saved the world but not everyone knows that–since we changed the past. In this timeline, they’re still war criminals. Ross is still in power. We can’t bring them home.”

“Right.” Peter nodded slowly, his jaw clenching. Wakanda was halfway around the world. If they all really came back… He shook his head. He’d find her. She said that they would see each other soon. He’d hold her to that.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Mr. Stark placed a hand on his arm. Looking at him the man gave Peter a small smile. “We’ll get them back. I know that in your memories, Cap and I had our differences, but everything is fixed now. It’ll be ok.”

Peter blinked at him. Right, that was a thing. They had been fighting before all this happened. 

He sat back slightly and observed his mentor. Stark’s gaze followed his face, his remaining open and passive. Stark looked like he was being honest, really believing what he was saying. Well, Peter couldn’t fault him for not knowing who he really wanted to see. Her absence felt like a chasm that he couldn’t fill, in more ways than one, although he couldn’t place why.

Peter was just opening his mouth to tell him when the door opened. “Oh good, he’s awake.”

Peter’s eyes snapped towards the new voice and a grin took over his face. “Doctor Strange! You’re here!” 

The sorcerer smirked and sauntered over to his bed. “That I am. How are you feeling?”

His gaze following him, Peter shrugged. “I’m fine.” 

Doctor Strange gave him a look before moving his hands around, casting something that brought orange alchemical circles in front of him. “Are you sure? When you came back, you were in a lot of pain.”

Peter’s face fell and he quickly looked away, swallowing. “A little achy,” he admitted, trying to get that colour out of his mind. 

The Doctor hummed and continued with his assessment, his hands sometimes hovering over Peter to gauge his well being. Finally, he stepped back. “Well, he’s not lying,” Strange informed them and dissipated his spell. “I can’t find anything physically wrong with him. Whatever pain he was in is gone. I can take out the IV now,” he added and started to do just that. 

Holding out his arm for the Doctor Peter smirked before tilting his head. “Why was that by the way? Why did I react like that? Did anyone else?”

The two men looked at each other, then Stark huffed. “No, just you. It was your goddamn senses. They overloaded to the point that you could’ve rupture something.”

Peter stared at him. “Seriously?”

Mr. Stark sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his face. “Hell, I don’t know. The Doc”—he waved his hand at him, while Strange stood passively—"just said that you were in a lot of pain. Everything grated at your senses. Apparently, the Soul World, or where-ever-the-fuck you were, put a damper on everything. After being trapped in there for so long, your body couldn't handle the full brunt of the real world.”

Peter looked over to Strange, raising his brow. He shrugged. “He got it close enough.” 

“Thanks, Doc.” Stark smirked, earning him a scowl.

Ignoring them Peter nodded slowly. That sounded right–he’d been aware that everything had been muted, but he didn’t think that it would be that severe. 

He shook that away, then perked up, turning to them with a smile. “Well, you were right, Doctor Strange. We just had to wait till they got us out.”

Mid-argument, they stopped and looked at him. Stark raised a brow while Strange tilted his head. They glanced at each other, then Strange hesitantly turned back to him. “When did I say that?”

Peter blinked and looked back and forth between the two, his face morphing to reflect the confusion on thiers. “In, in the Soul World–you told me that they would save us.”

“I did?” Strange blinked, his brows lifting before snapping back down so he was squinting at him. “Wait, you remember it?”

“Yeeeaah…?” Peter drew out, a cold sensation creeping up his gut. “You don’t?”

Doctor Strange eyed him, his brows pulled into a troubled frown. “No… not really. I remember an orange world and water… but then I fell into dreams. If I talked to you while within the stone, I do not recall it.”

“Oh.” Peter blinked at him, then looked down at his hands. Chewing on his lip, he glanced at them. “Does anyone else remember?”

Stark shook his head while Strange observed him, his eyes almost cold in their thoughtful distance. “Fascinating… I thought I was the only one with the faintest memories of it. Everyone else that I’ve spoken to couldn’t recall anything. If what you're saying is true, you’re an anomaly.”

Peter paled, anomaly? Does that mean he’s the only one?

“Jeez, Doc, that’s a little harsh. It’s not like there’s something wrong with him,” Stark interjected, and Strange’s cool gaze slid from Peter to glare at him.

“I’m not saying that there is.”

“Well, you could have said it better.”

“Wait, waitwaitwait,” Peter interrupted them. “So no one, not any of the other Avengers, can remember anything about the Soul World?”

They shook their heads. “Nope,” Stark said, popping the p.

“Huh.” Peter sank back against his pillows, going still as his mind raced. Did that mean Wanda didn’t remember him? Or if he was the only of with memories of the place, did he just dream it? Was it all just his imagination?

He thought about everything they’d talked about and even recited the lullaby and some Sokovian phrases silently. He was pretty sure he wasn't smart enough to come up with a whole language by himself. So it must be real– right? It must have happened, but then, she might not remember it. She had told him that his mind was different, altered by the Spider. It’s likely that he had could resist the mind-numbing effects of the Soul World. Sure, the Mind Stone had protected her while she was there with him, but did that mean it would help her remember it? He didn’t know. The only way he would know was to find her and ask. But then she was in Wakanda, so how was he going to get there? There was the Quinjet, Mr. Stark would probably take him if he asked, but then he would ask questions. Questions that he didn’t want to answer if Wanda really didn’t remember him and– 

“Peter!”

“Hmm?” He snapped his head around and looked at Stark. 

The man’s face was tight and his good hand was clamped on Peter’s forearm. When did he touch him? “You with us?”

“Yeah, why?”

Mr. Stark stared at him strangely, and, releasing him, slowly sat back. He traded a look with Doctor Strange. It was pensive and a little tense. Turning back to him, Mr. Stark tried a smile. “It’s alright. You were just in your head for a bit. What’s going on up there?”

Peter frowned at him, then it dawned on him. He’d been thinking for too long. Right, time actually mattered here. In the Soul World, he and Wanda would fall into a silence that felt like eons–to the point they had to remember how to talk again. Well, not that severe, but still. Also, she would pull him out of it by speaking right into his head. She wasn’t here to do that now. 

Peter shook himself and smiled. “No, no, I’m fine.”

Stark gave him a flat, unimpressed look before sighing. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Peter shot back with a smirk. 

Stark rolled his eyes, then looked back to Strange. “Can he eat anything? Is that okay?”

Strange hummed, keeping his eyes on Peter. “Should be. It’s not like he’s sick. In fact, he’s in perfect health.”

“Great!” Stark slapped the arm of his chair, then hauled himself up. “Come on, Pete, let’s get some food into you.” He patted his arm, then started towards the door, Strange following.

Peter blinked, food? As in eating? He hadn’t eaten in… He didn’t know how long. That morning of the bus he’d had pancakes, but since then…

His stomach growled, and he became aware of a feeling in his lower abdomen. It felt like his stomach was consuming itself. He covered his mouth with a hand and wrapped the other around his torso. He couldn't believe that he’d forgotten about eating. It’s just been so long– 

“Kid? You coming?” Peter snapped his gaze to Stark. Both men had paused at the door, Stark having placed a casual hand on the door while Strange regarded him thoughtfully. 

“Oh, yeah, yeah, food’s good. Count me in.” He started to climb off the bed then paused. “Are there clothes that I can wear?” he asked, glancing down at his hospital gown.

“Oh right,” Stark chuckled. “Pepper put some of yours in the bathroom. Do you want us to wait for you or do you remember the way to the kitchen?” 

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I’ll meet you there,” Peter assured them, flapping a hand. Stark eyed him for a moment before shrugging and leaving the room. Strange lingered, watching him as he stumbled to his feet and started to the bathroom. 

Peter paused at the threshold and blinked at Strange. “You okay?”

When he didn’t immediately answer him, Peter squinted, wondering what he was up to. “Ummm… if it’s okay with you… I’m going to get dressed?” Peter asked, vaguely pointing at the bathroom. “Yeah, okay,” he muttered and was about to duck away when Strange spoke up.

“What happened in the Soul World?”

Peter paused, halfway through the door and leaned back to lock gazes with him. The man was standing in the open hallway doorway, regarding him. He didn’t look that much different from when the man had faded and walked away. That cut on his brow was healed, but he still wore the same clothes and the cloak hugged his shoulders, twitching occasionally. He was slightly surprised to see the Time Stone hanging around his neck again.

Peter tried not to flinch when he noticed that. 

He chewed on his lip and thunked his head against the doorframe. Thoughts swimming, he was half amazed that he was even touching something other than water. Or Wanda. The two of them had clung to each other for a long time because of that. 

The metal was cool under his skin as Peter looked at him. “What do you mean?”

Strange raised a brow and Peter grimaced. He sucked in a deep breath and told him, “Nothing happened. We could do nothing.”

“We?” Strange prompted and Peter blinked.

“Oh, you and me. You talked to me for a little while before you faded. You told me to be patient and that we couldn’t do anything to help.” Peter rushed then chuckled. “I wasn’t too happy with you about that.”

“Huh.” Strange raised his chin and his eyes drifted, probably trying to remember. Peter watched, chewing on his lip. He waited till the man blinked and shook his head. “I’ll leave you be,” he said, and without waiting for an answer, he left–leaving Peter alone.

That thought wormed his way under his skin, and he realised just how alone he was now. He realized that he couldn't feel Wanda’s magic at the back of his mind. Shaking, he quickly slipped into the bathroom to find his clothes. It was fairly easy since they were left on the counter. Stripping out of the gown, he quickly put on the sweat pants and the science tee. 

Minutes later, he walked out into the hall, which was gray stone with large windows. Pausing to look out them, he realized that he was at the Compound. He’d suspected that he was in the med bay, but he wasn’t sure till now. He’d been there enough times to know the walls—and the way to the common kitchen. 

It took him about five minutes to get there, jogging down the halls. The smell of sausages, eggs, and pancakes hit his nose and even stung a little. He had to fight not to cover it. 

He hadn’t been lying when he told Strange and Stark that he was okay, but everything was still a bit strong. It reminded him of when he’d first got bit. It’d probably take a day or two for him to get used to the world again. Man, that first week after being bitten was… not pleasant. Aaaand that wasn’t important either–God, he needed to stop thinking about that stuff. He shook himself then marched on in. 

Inside the kitchen was so much activity that it put him off balanced. Stark perched on a barstool, hunched over his tablet. Rhodes sat beside him, leaning on the kitchen island. Strange wasn’t around. It was the two women that were making the most noise—a brunette and a ginger, both with their backs to him. They were arguing about cooking and spices. 

Peter froze at the archway and stared wide-eyed at the two people he considered his maternal figures. Pepper was smiling and shaking her head at something that May was insisting on. He didn’t hear them. He was too busy taking in their sheer presence. 

He watched them, stunned till May laughed at something and turned to the men. She was grinning, and she opened her mouth but froze, her eyes locked on him. Her face slackened and something akin to awe overcame her features. “Peter,” she breathed and set her flipper down. 

Pepper jerked and spun to look at him, and catching sight of him, adopted a relieved smile. “Good morning,” she called sweetly. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

Peter nodded absently, his eyes flickering around the room, noticing that Stark had lowered his tablet and his eyes were surveying the room. His gaze fell onto Peter, turning thoughtful before glancing at May. He regarded her for a moment before sitting back, waiting. Rhodes did the same, resting his chin on his hands, calm eyes half-lidded. 

Pepper glanced over to the woman beside her and placed a hand on May’s arm, murmuring gently. She was whispering but because Peter’s sense were still a little haywire, he heard her loud and clear. “It’s okay, go to him.”

May didn’t respond and was still staring at her nephew. Peter chewed on his lip, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wanted to greet her, but his voice caught in this throat, so he lifted one hand and waved timidly.

Cautiously, May started around the island, stepping past Pepper, who had to turn her attention back to the bacon she was cooking. Peter could tell by the sound. It sizzled in his ears, but he tried to ignore it as his Aunt made her way towards him. Her steps were light and reminded him of a cat stalking forwards. It screamed hesitance and uncertainty, but it caused the hair on his neck to raise. He had to fight with himself to stay still as she stopped in front of him. 

Ignoring his stupid spidey sense, he locked his legs so he wouldn’t step back when she paused, her gaze darting around his face. He had no idea what she was looking for, but Peter saw her eyes glisten, and she reached towards him. He expected it, but he still flinched back when her hands got close to him. 

May froze, her expression falling and panic crawled up his throat, locking his voice away further. His own hand shot up and hovered over hers. Neither of them moved, Peter unable to touch her because in the back of his mind he wasn’t sure he could. He’d spent so much time locked in his own mind thinking that she was there when she hadn’t been. Wanda had helped him realize when he was lost in his head. However, as he was beginning to acutely feel, his *sister* wasn’t here. She might not even know who he is. 

So he was frozen, unable to confirm or not if May was really in front of him. However, May was not. Slowly, she started moving and her fingers ghosted his cheek. They didn’t go through him. She was there. So was he. Peter’s breath hitched, and he grabbed her wrist. Her skin was warm under his palm. 

There hadn’t been temperatures in the stone. 

May froze and her expression was unreadable as she watched him. Slowly, he brought her palm to his cheek, imitating when she’d do that when he was little. He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them again, he smiled hesitatingly. “Hi, May.”

A sob burst from her throat and she enveloped him in a hug.

Peter tensed for a moment then melted into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her. It was the same as any other hug that she’d given him, the familiarity of it brings tears to his eyes. He tucked his head against her shoulder, ignoring how her hair was tickling his nose. 

“I missed you,” he whispered, tightening his grip on her, although he was careful of his strength. 

May laughed wetly and pressed her cheek against his. “So did I, Sweetheart. It’s been some time.”

Peter couldn’t help barking a laugh and tucked himself further into her embrace. He couldn’t help it. Suddenly, all he wanted was to go back to being a little boy and hide in his Aunt’s much larger and warmer arms. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe that he was. 

That stopped when she stepped back. Peter whined a bit in his throat but bit his lip, so he didn’t immediately hug her again. May gave him a smile and led him over to the counter. “Come on, you’ve been asleep for days. I know you’re hungry.”

Peter nodded and didn’t fight her. Joining the rest of them, Peter flicked his eyes around the people there, still amazed that there was more than one other solid person. May patted his arm, lingering for a moment before going back to the stove, on the other side of the island of where she’d placed him.

Peter hesitated at the counter, looking to Stark for what to do. “ _~So should I sit down or…?~_ ” Stark didn’t seem to hear him, just winked before taping something else on his tablet. Peter frowned, wondering why he hadn’t answered before his breath stopped. Stark had no way of reading his mind, and he’d just automatically thought to him as he would have with Wanda when he was non-verbal.

Peter looked down, biting his lip. Fighting tears, he mentally reached for something that he hadn’t needed to search for in a very long time—the traces of Wanda. During one of his more violent flashbacks, she’d tapped into his mind to help him through it. She’d shared some of her calm and promised that he wasn’t there anymore. He’d thanked her and they’d just… never broke the mental link. It was easier than being alone. There had been nothing else, no one else. 

There were three people around him, people who he knew loved him, but he couldn’t help feeling devastatingly alone.

“You okay there, kid? You’re holding your breath.” Peter blinked and looked up at his mentor, Stark’s head tilted so that he was fully facing him, half obscuring Rhodey’s hunched from behind him. 

Peter stared, trying to compute what he’d just said. He was holding his… oh. Peter breathed in sharply and clean, clear air rushed in. He clapped a hand over his mouth and turned away, not really seeing anything. He’d forgot to breathe in. How can you forget to _breathe_? 

“Kid?” Stark pressed.

Peter lowered his hand, pushing a smile onto his face. His voice when raspy and quiet when he answered. “Sorry, Mr. Stark. I was just thinking.”

“Uh huh, I got that, just not what.”

Peter’s lips tightened minutely. “Nothing important.”

Stark opened his mouth again, but they both turned when someone interrupted him. “Here you go, sweetheart.” With a clatter of china, Peter found himself looking down at a plate piled high with breakfast food. It’s strong smell wafting up towards his sensitive nose, causing him to scrunch it slightly. It wasn’t bad, but it was still strong.

He glanced up to Pepper, a ‘thank you’ on his tongue, but it caught when he had the full force of her attention. She didn’t look any different then his memories of her did, but it was her presence that shocked him. It had been the one thing that had faded in his memories, nothing being able to accurately copy her essence. She was too grand and imposing, yet warm. Now that warmth was etched into every line on her face, her smile gentle and soothing.

“Peter?” Pepper asked hesitantly, pushing the plate a little closer to him. “It’s going to get cold.”

Peter blinked. “Oh, right,” he squeaked and hastily reached for the plate, but froze when his fingers brushed hers, his elbow locking. His eyes wide, he stared at his skin touching her nails, the shellac paint slightly outgrown. Compared to his slightly broader hands, hers looked small and fragile. He could see the bones of her knuckles under her skin, her tendons slightly raised.

Other facts and details of her hand consumed his vision as he stared at it. Then it came closer and her fingers touched the back of his. He jerked, pressing his lips tight. She froze for a second before slowly, gently taking his hand and squeezing. He barely felt the amount of pressure that she’d used, but something else tightened far more around his chest. She kept her hand in his till he squeezed back and managed to lift his eyes to hers and offered a small smile. “Thank you, Pepper.” 

Her answering grin was just as small but held as much emotion. “Welcome back, Peter.”

He nodded and ducked his head, reluctantly letting go so he could pull his plate towards him. He picked up his cutlery and was looking around when someone poured apple cinnamon syrup over his food. He gasped and gapped at his aunt, who raised the ladle, still dripping with syrup, and she smirked. “I know–it’s your favourite.”

Peter grinned and had the urge to hug her again. Instead, he bobbed his head before tearing into his meal. It was in the middle of it all that everything started to go wrong.


	4. Adjustment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter adjusts to being back in the realm of the living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm so sorry this took so long to get up--I've been distracted by my other fic, Long Time Coming and I had to cat sit for a week where it wasn't the most comfortable writing place. 
> 
> But, it's up now so I hope you guys like it :)

At first, he didn’t realize what was going on. He was enjoying the feeling of actual food in this stomach, the weight of it heavy but in a nice way. However, everytime he swallowed, something was wrong. A couple of times, it felt like his throat was raw or just off, but he couldn’t place it, and instead focused on the conversation that was going on around him. 

Pepper and May had finished cooking the meal and all four of them were sitting at the island counter with plates in front of them. Stark was chatting to Rhodes about upgrades for his braces, commenting that he’s going to have to remember everything he’d accomplished on them but had lost since the five-year time jump. 

“Right, remember how we’d gotten the reaction time to one-point-five seconds? Right now you’re running on a two second delay.” Stark placed his mug down and wagged his finger at him. 

Rhodes gave his friend a tired smile. “I’m sure that you can do it.”

“Of course you are.” 

Peter smirked and wanted to roll his eyes. At least Stark hadn’t changed too much in his time gone. Well, not on the surface. Peter eyed him, chewing slowly, the motions feeling a bit disjointed. However, he ignored that in favor of looking closer at his mentor. As Stark joked and pushed his friend around, Peter noticed a tiredness to his face. It wasn’t physical—he hadn’t actually aged at all because of the whole time travel mess—but he’d definitely aged mentally. There was a heaviness to his slump, even when he was animatedly talking and gesturing to his audience. 

Rhodey and Pepper had the same weight to them, like someone was forcing them to carry something that they didn’t want to. He was pretty sure that they were, actually.

“May,” he started quietly, swallowing his mouthful. He coughed lightly and cleared his throat when it went down funny. He frowned and rubbed at his neck as his aunt looked up at him.

She smiled, soft and unburdened. “Yes, sweetie?”

“You don’t remember, do you?” 

The three adults froze, eyes snapping towards him. Pepper’s eyes got heavier and Rhodes opened his mouth before closing it again. Stark stared at him like he’d grown another head. 

“How do you…?” Stark stammered and Peter flicked his gaze to him. Stark sighed heavily when the kid’s eyes landed on him. 

Peter pressed his lips into a line and looked back to his aunt. She watched him sadly then shook her head. “No. No, I don’t—no one does.”

Peter flicked his fork at the other people there. “They do.” With the edge of the utensil, he cut another part of his pancakes off and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed while they watched him, although he had to pause and focus on the mechanics of that when it wasn’t working right. 

Pepper was the one that broke the silence. “No one but the ones on that battlefield remembers the time that we lost,” she clarified. 

Peter blinked. “You fought against Thanos?” That didn’t sound right. She shouldn’t have been anywhere near that monster—not because she wasn’t capable, but she was too kind and wholesome to be around someone so… not.

Pepper huffed and shook her head. “No, but I was there.” She shot her fiance—or husband—a look. “Tony and Steve did most of that, along with Carol. I fought against his army.”

“How?” Peter frowned and tilted his head. 

“This,” Stark interjected and slid his tablet over to him, tapping the screen. A hologram popped up and Peter found himself staring at an image of a slimmer, subtly more feminine version on the Iron Man suit but painted silver and purplish blue. It was beautiful. He could definitely see the touches of Pepper on its design, getting rid of some of the Stark flare to fit her sensibility. 

As Peter observed it, Stark started to chatter. “We named it Rescue—well, Pepper did. She said that the only thing that would get her out there was to rescue my sorry ass. And that’s what happened the first time she used it. The name stuck.”

May smirked as Pepper levelled him with an exasperated look. Stark chuckled lightly while Peter let his lips twitch into a small smile. That did sound like them. 

Stabbing his next piece of pancake, Peter asked, “So what’s the story? If no one remembers the snap, what do they know?”

Rhodey was the one that answered him. Pouring more syrup on his food, he cleared his throat. “They do remember it, the Decimation did happen—but not for as long as for us.” Peter frowned at him and shoved another forkful of food into his mouth then waved his utensil in a continue motion. He did. “For us, you’ve been gone for five years—to the rest of the world, it’s been five days. It was one of the things that we tweaked when we got ahold of all the stones.”

Peter nodded and swallowed. That’s when he made his mistake. While he listened, he wasn’t really paying attention to the mechanics of what he was doing. If this conversation had happened before, then it wouldn’t have mattered—but it didn’t. 

Looking back on it, it seemed a bit silly that this one thing messed up his whole day, but why it happened is what mattered. 

When he swallowed, he also inhaled at the same time and the food lodged in his throat. He coughed and sputtered, gasping, but nothing was entering his lungs. Immediately, he twisted away from them and tried to cough into his elbow, but his throat burned, and he only managed to grip the counter tightly. He felt the piece lodged in his airways, trapped, and he slapped a fist to his chest to try and get it out. 

“Peter?” May’s tight voice cut through the haze of pain that he found himself in. “Are you getting air?”

Peter’s eyes snapped open and he looked up to stare at her. He hadn’t heard that question in years, even before the snap. Locking eyes with her, his throat seemed to constrict further, and he whimpered. They’d always had to ask Ben that since he’d had a habit of talking while he ate and not swallowing right. 

May’s eyes softened even when she gritted her teeth. Coming around the island, she reached out and gripped his forearm. “I know, sweetie, but we have to know—are you getting air?”

Peter gritted his teeth and coughed harder, shaking his head. He should have been scared—and he was—but apart of him only felt that it was familiar, not being able to breathe. Then he realized why. 

He coughed again, the force of it shaking his frame. A loud screech sounded from beside him, and Stark moved, so he could pound a hand on his back. He looked over his shoulder at him to see the man’s normally calm eyes wide and panicked. Darkness crept at the edge of his vision and he started to tip sideways off the barstool.

He woke up on the ground, gasping. A chorus of cries and sighs echoed around him, but Peter ignored them in favour of propping himself up on one arm and hacking, spitting out the lump of food. He barely looked at it before falling back onto his back, his eyes closed. His throat burned—feeling raw and torn apart. 

He waited a moment then cracked open his eyelids. Four faces crowded around him, all strained and wide-eyed. Eyes flicking to each face, he croaked, “What happened?”

Stark opened his mouth but May cut him off. “You swallowed wrong. You blacked out from lack of oxygen.”

Peter swallowed, wincing at the way it felt like shattered glass and nodded. 

He felt hands on his arm and looked up at his aunt. Her bottom lip trembled and she squeezed his biceps. “You weren’t breathing for five minutes.”

Oh. Crap. Peter groaned and thunked his head against the floor.

Stark ran his hand through Peter’s hair drawing his attention. They locked gazes, Starks eyes huge and searching, flicking all over his face. Finally, he sighed heavily and leaned sideways, groaning. “Don’t do that. I could have lost you again because you were _choking_ ,” he seethed, his voice strained.

Peter closed his eyes and turned his head away. There was a sound of a soft slap and Stark squawked. “What?”

“Peter, honey—look at me,” Pepper soothed. He whimpered for a moment before doing as she asked, looking up at her from where she’d settled behind him. “Tony’s just frightened—you scared us.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his eyes falling.

“That’s not what she’s getting at, baby,” May interjected, placing a hand on his chest. He focused on how her palm moved with each rise and fall of his breathing. But there was was a stutter, a jump between each inhale and exhale. It wasn’t like hiccups, although it did remind him off it. 

He grimaced and called softly, “Friday?”

The adults blinked and glanced at each other while the AI chimed before speaking. “ **Yes, Peter?** ”

“Run a scan.”

“ **As you wish.** "

Peter nodded and closed his eyes. God, he was tired. Maybe it was from the lack of oxygen. Moments or maybe minutes later, Friday reported, “ **There is a small irregularity in his breathing. Significant enough to make his breathing more difficult.** ”

He figured as much.

“Wait, what? What does that mean?” Tony asked, his voice tight.

Peter opened his eyes and looked at the adults, glancing at their faces. Worry and uneasy was etched into every wrinkle and line. Peter sighed, relaxing against the floor, his fingers finding the spaces between the wood.

“Is there something wrong with him physically?” Tony continued, “Do we need to get doctor Cho here? Or Bruce? He should still be in space right about now. Thor and the Asgardians were three days out the last time I talked to them. That was this morning, do we need to call them—”

“There was no air.” 

At Peter’s quiet confession, Tony’s eyes snapped to his, widening in a way that would be comical if it was any other time.

“What?” he croaked.

Peter swallowed and looked past them, up at the ceiling, but he didn’t see it. Instead, orange light danced around him, and he could feel the water lapping at his feet. The song echoed faintly in his ears.

“In the Soul World,” Peter clarified quietly, still gazing vacantly. “There was no air.”

Horror started to seep into Pepper’s face, and May’s eyes slid shut and she bowed her head. He grimaced but forced himself to continue. “I wasn’t sure until now but… breathing was just a habit—I didn’t need to.” He chuckled humorlessly and coughed into the crook of his arm before continuing. “Five year’s must have been long enough for me to forget.”

May’s fingers curled into the fabric of his shit, and Peter reached up and loosely held her wrist, taking comfort in the fact that he wasn’t going through her. She released him to slip her hand into his and squeezed. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

He shook his head and sat up, huffing slightly. He was still a little dizzy from the lack of air, but he gave his aunt a warm smile and leaned against her. He didn’t say anything and just revelled in the warmth that radiated off of her.

After that, they returned to eating, Peter still hungry even if eating itself was somewhat dangerous for him at the moment. He was a little embarrassed and annoyed that Tony was watching him like a hawk—ready to jump up if he started choking again. He kept on telling him to slow down and to regulate his breathing. Peter ended up snapping at him, and he sulked off to the other side of the island, Pepper slipping in beside him. She was equally as worried, but she showed it by placing a hand on his shoulder and rubbing slow circles with her thumb. 

After he’d eaten his fill, Peter pushed his plate away and thunked his head against the marble counter. Time seemed to fade for him after that. He knew that they talked to him, trying to ease him back into being around people. He wasn’t really paying attention though, and when May suggested going to bed, he just nodded and stumbled to his feet.

His aunt gently grabbed his arm and led him down halls that he remembered but didn’t. It was the same path that he’d used before the snap, but the memory of following it was so distant. His muscles remembered it, easily turning at the right times, but Peter was glancing around like it was the first time being there. 

He could hear the other two following quietly; their footfalls obvious to his overly sensitive hearing. He understood why they were trailing behind them. He would have, too, honestly. He knew that he’d spend the next couple of days or weeks clinging to one of them, if not all. He was just too tired to care at that point. 

Soon enough, his aunt was leading him into his bedroom, and he took a moment to take it in. It looked the same as he left it, some of his clothes scattered around the dresser, and his homework and half finished gadgets covering his desk. Looking at it he blinked, he couldn’t even remember what his last assignment had been. They’d been going to the MOMA when the aliens attacked… did they even finish the trip? Probably. This was New York. Alien invasions were old news.

Peter allowed May to lead him to his bed where he crawled under the covers, not caring that he was technically still dressed. He was wearing loose clothes, so it didn’t matter that much. Wrapping the blanket around himself, he snuggled into the pillow before peeking up at his aunt. 

May was smiling at him, her eyes soft and a little sad. He recognized that expression, she’d worn it often after Ben… Peter pushed that away and forced his lips to curved into a small smile, trying to offer her some comfort. 

She sat down beside him, reaching out to tuck his hair behind his ear. “Hey, baby…”

“Hi,” he said back, laughing quietly at the odd conversation starter.

May’s lips twitched into a smirk before it fell slightly, and she trailed a thumb down his cheek. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Peter paused, frowning slightly. “Define okay?”

May huffed and shook her head. “Yeah, you have a point,” she admitted before sighing. Her lip trembled and she cupped her hand around his cheek. “Five years…” she murmured. “You were alone for five years.”

Peter opened his mouth to assure her that he hadn’t been, that Wanda had been there for him, but he paused before slowly closing it. He offered her a weak smile before burrowing his head into the pillow. “Will you stay?”

“Of course,” May answered immediately and shifted, so she was sitting against the headboard, her legs under the covers with him. He pressed up against her and stared at the wall, soothed by how her hands travelled through his hair. In the corner of his eye, he saw Pepper and Mr Stark hovering by his open door. Instead, images and feeling washed over him, light tingles pulling at his body. He knew that it was his body shutting down, getting ready for sleep, but he was only distantly aware of it.

“~ _Are you there?_ ~” he asked silently, impulsively, even if May was sitting right beside him. 

No answer, no tingle of magic at the base of his brain.

Peter sighed and closed his eyes. “~ _I wonder how you’re doing,_ ~” he started, even though he knew no one could hear him. “~ _Did you wake up alone? I know you said that you were in a fight when you faded, in the middle of a warzone. So there should have been other people there. I’m happy that there was. If there was... right._ ~” Peter sighed heavily, coughing lightly when it caught in this throat and made him wheeze. Man, he hoped that his body got used to breathing again soon. 

May’s hands stilled in his hair but was quiet as he rubbed a palm over his sternum, focusing on his chest expanding. “~ _If you remember, are you having the same problem?_ ~” he wondered dimly. His eyes slid shut. If that was the cause, he hoped for the first time that she didn’t. He didn’t want her to go through this, too. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

The following week passed in bits and pieces. He still had breathing issues and had to spend some time focusing on keeping a steady rhythm. May and Pepper got him to sit down and meditate with them, just sitting quietly on the floor and breathing. It helped a little, but what he really loved about it was their reaction to him sitting still for a couple of hours, May claiming that Hell had frozen over. He laughed with them, not having the heart to tell them that he’d learned patience because he had nothing else to do. 

The first two days were just him getting used to being in the physical world again. He didn’t know how many times he touched the things in the penthouse. Any time that he was sitting on the couch, his hands were running along the soft leather or the scratchy but warm wool of the afghan. The others probably noticed his new habit, but no one commented on it. What they did do was initiate more physical contact. Whenever they could, they’d give him hugs or run a hand through his hair. 

He loved it, smiling anytime that they did that, happily hugging them back. He really did love it, but even May’s touches felt distant. He hated that he felt that, that there might be something missing or wrong about them, but they weren’t hers. The ache that he was feeling wasn’t a lost crush; no—this was him missing his friend, someone that had been with him for years, without any breaks. It was wrong and disorienting, going from being constantly with her, to not being able to even talk about her. 

On the third day, Tony found him skimming through his movie collection, eyes lingering on some of the posters on the screen. 

Coming to sit beside him, the man nudged their shoulders together. “Found what you’re looking for?”

Peter hummed and nodded. “Yeah.”

Tony looked back at the screen and saw that he’d stopped it on the Tolkien movies. “Ooh Lord of the Rings? Want to do a movie marathon? We could get popcorn and pizza,” he added, his tone rising and a smile twitched across his face.

Peter looked at him for a second, biting his lip at his mentor’s hopeful expression. He knew why Tony wanted this. It had been a tradition for them, to do a movie night. He wanted to but… he made a promise. Putting on a smile, he shook his head, “Nah, I’m good.”

Tony paused, his mouth half open, head tilted upwards like when he was talking to Friday. Frowning, he turned back to him and repeated. “You’re good?”

“Hmmhmm,” Peter hummed and clicked the TV off. “I just wanted to know if you had it.”

“If I had it?” Tony scoffed and placed a hand on his chest. “Come on, Pete, this is me you’re talking about.”

Peter smirked and tilted his head. “True, I just wanted to make sure.”

“Annnd, do you have a reason for that?” Tony asked, eyes travelling over his face, his nose slightly scrunched. 

Peter huffed and got up. “Is curious a good enough reason?”

“Always,” Tony told him. “Well, if you’re not up for a movie, how about working on something?” he asked, getting up with a hop and strutting to the elevator.

Peter grinned and followed him. 

The fourth day, May approached him after lunch when he was playing with the camera settings on his phone. He was in a little corner of the sitting room, hanging from the ceiling by a web pinched between his bare feet. Another thing that he’d missed terribly, being able to be upside down without any issues. Sure, he’d walked around on his hands while Wanda laughed at him but it wasn’t the same.

Looking up from his phone, he watched as May settled on the lounge chair, not directly under him, but the one beside it. Leaning back, she rested her head on the cushion. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey, May,” he responded, grinning at her. 

She smiled fondly and slouched, so she could look at him better. “So, the schools are starting up again. They all shut down after the Decimation, people were more interested in looking for their families than education.”

He snorted. “Not surprised.”

May chuckled and lifted an arm to swat at him. Her fingertips caught his head and he started swinging back and forth slightly. “Hey,” he complained, pouting. 

“Hay is for horses,” she shot back with a grin. “Now, are you up for going?”

Peter paused, eyes turning vacant as he thought about it. He’d been texting with his friends, assuring Ned and MJ that he was okay, learning that both of them had disappeared, too. They only remembered an odd sensation before waking up to their families crying. They knew what happened but… they didn’t know. It was distant to them, like it had happened to someone else. Which probably meant that everyone was like that. Going back would mean he’d have to pretend he was the same when he wasn’t. He was so far from different, it wasn’t even funny. He was even set apart from Tony, Rhodey and Pepper. Sure, they remembered the five years, but it wasn’t the same. 

“Peter?” May asked quietly, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?” He jerked, and noticed that he’d stopped swinging. He cursed lowly and flipped down, flopping into the chair beside her. “Sorry.”

May smiled and reached over to tuck his hair behind his ear. “‘Sokay sweetheart—we all get lost in our heads sometimes, but I do need an answer.”

Peter hummed and admitted, “I don’t even remember what we were last working on.”

May blinked and tilted her head. “I didn’t think of that,” she stated, surprising a laugh out of him. She smiled and ruffled his hair. “But you’re smart enough to get caught up before going back. The schools are still getting organized. You have a week and a bit.”

“True.” Peter smirked and patted her knee. “I should get on that then.”

“Only if you want to,” May told him, her smile growing.

Getting up, he pressed a kiss to her temple. “I want to,” he assured her and waved as he went off, preparing himself for the refresher. 

It was the six night when the small stability that he’d gained was shaken. They were all eating dinner, well, the people who were at the compound, which included himself, Tony, May, Pepper, and Rhodey. Doctor Strange had been visiting periodically but only stuck around every once and awhile. It was a pasta night, tortellini alfredo, and Peter loved it. His breathing had gotten better, now being less of a danger to himself by just eating.

Tony had finally shown him what was wrong with his hand, taking off the cast to present his new prosthetic that he’d been working the kinks out of. Apparently, he’d lost the arm when he used the gauntlet.

Peter was just looking it over, twisting the wrist around, when Tony lightly shoved him. “You can look at it later. I have some good news!”

Peter perked up and scooted his stool forward a little while Pepper raised a brow. “Is this good news for all of us or just you?”

“In the long run? Good news for everyone,” Tony admitted with a smile. Turning to Rhodey, he asked, “Do you remember General Tanya?”

The military man nodded, “She’s a decorated General, and she hates Ross with a passion.”

Tony grinned and pointed at him. “Exactly. I’ve been working with her and others to amend the Accords. They want to talk with Steve, so they can pardon Barnes and allow everyone to come home.”

Peter’s breath caught and his gaze snapped to Tony. “They’re coming here?”

Tony smirked at him. “Keep your fanboying to a minimum, Kid. As far as I know, the plan is to only have Nat and Steve in the States until everyone’s names are cleared.”

“Oh.” Peter sat back and fought to keep a frown from his face, blinking at the sudden moisture in his eyes. Going back to his food, Peter shoved a forkful of pasta into his mouth. She wasn’t coming home. He should have known better than to get his hopes up—she probably didn’t even remember him. 

Tony watched him, frowning lightly before Pepper cut in, “Are you sure you can trust her? It’s not a trap?”

Turning to his wife, Tony shrugged. “Friday couldn’t find anything on her. Well, nothing that would hint at her betraying us. Nat vouched for her, so it’s even less likely that it is one. However, I’m not going to completely trust her. That’s why it’s only Steve and Natasha, everyone else will stay in Wakanda.”

Peter hunched further down and tried not to let the bitterness curdle his food. It was making it taste wrong and he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it anymore. His mouth twitched downward, but he hid it by chomping on his fork. Smoothing out his features, he listened quietly as he chewed. 

Pepper had sat up and folded her hands in front of her. “When should we expect them? Where will the negotiations be held?” she asked briskly, her eyes narrowing. 

“As of this morning,” Tony started, “the plan is for Steve and Nat to land here tomorrow night, get settled, then go right into talks. They’ll be held here, the council people coming around till we can clean everything up.”

May paused, loaded fork halfway to her mouth. “Wait, does that mean Peter and I have to hide?”

“Eeehhh…” Tony pulled his mouth down and tipped his head from side to side. “It would be a good idea? I really don’t want to explain to them why I’m housing a random family. Although,” he added when he saw Peter’s face fall, “if it comes to that, I’ll tell the truth, that you’re my intern that got evicted during the snap, and I offered to house you till you’re back on your feet. That good?”

Peter nodded then looked at his aunt. May pursed her lips. “Would they buy that? You’re not exactly known to offer charity.”

“S’cuse me. SI hosts charities all the time.”

May levelled Tony with a blank look. “You know what I mean.”

He smirked and lifted his hands in a ‘what can ya do’ gesture. Lowering them, he smiled gently. “It’ll be okay. They’re not going to care.”

May mulled this over before nodding. “So,” she started a little more energetic, “we’ll have two more people staying here. Are their rooms ready?”

“Not yet,” Tony admitted. “I was going to get to it. Before they get here. They already have rooms, to be honest—they just need to be cleaned a bit. It’s been seven—no, two years since they’ve used them.”

May nodded, satisfied before going back to her food. After that the chatter rose up again, the adults going over plans and what they needed to pull this off.

Peter’s gut clenched and he pushed his plate away, looking down at the small amount that was left. Anticipation squeezed him, making it a little harder for him to breathe. He wasn’t sure if Wanda would have talked to Captain America or Black Widow about him, so he wasn’t sure if he should even ask them. Peter chewed on his lip, unsure. He didn’t want to tell them he knew her, then have her not recognize him. If she didn’t, he’d accept it as it was, but he didn’t want the complications that came with other people knowing he did. It wouldn’t help anyone—he’d go through it alone.


	5. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!!! it's finally finished!!! woohoo!!! (this chapter not the whole fic fyi)
> 
> sorry this took awhile. My burnout comes at random points and can last for weeks--it's annoying. 
> 
> also, note--any physical affectionate touching is purely platonic, unless I specify otherwise :)

After clean up, Peter snuck off, wandering alone down the halls, the overhead lights keeping the darkness at bay. He glanced at the black windows and took in the washed-out reflection that stared back at him. His memory of his own face was fuzzy, but he was aware that the tired, worn-out looking kid was him. He knew that, but distantly, it was like looking at someone else, like having the vague idea that you knew the person, but couldn’t place them. 

He watched himself for a moment before abandoning it and continuing on, just… walking. It felt nice, walking—it shouldn't, but it did. Tracing his hand along the concrete walls, Peter wandered aimlessly until he climbed some stairs and found himself in a hall of doors. They were all closed. 

His bare feet making no sound on the tiles, Peter wandered down the halls, looking over each of the doors. He knew where he was, even if he’d never been there himself—because Wanda had. She’d lived there, moved through it daily.

Padding forwards, he walked up to a particular door, although outwardly it was no different than the ones around him. Gently, he took the handle and pushed it downwards. It clicked open. Very lightly, he leaned against it and the door swung open, revealing the dim room within. 

Nothing had changed.

Wanda’s room had been left untouched since she ran from it. Her bed was still made, its gray duvet blanketing the low mattress. Her knitted stool was at the end of her bed, in front of the flat TV placed on her dresser. Her guitar was in its stand with a music book left open. 

Peter sank his toes into the softness of her carpet and found himself standing idly in front of her bed. Memories flicked in the back of his mind, sounds echoing around him. Steve coming in to comfort her after Lagos, Vision scaring the both of them, before her small world that she’d made fell around her. 

Peter didn’t think of the right or wrong choices she made. She’d already paid for them. Now was not the time to dig them back up. Instead, he inhaled deeply, and under the musk of dust and disuse, he found a hint of her scent. 

A sob caught in his throat and he covered his mouth. Her smell tickled his nose and a smile pulled at his face. The citrus stung a little, but the softness of the lemon had tears filling in his eyes. That was the first physical sign that he hadn’t dreamt her, that the Soul World had been real—to him at least. 

He sniffed and settled down on the floor, sitting cross-legged while his hands dragged through the white carpet threads. Idly rolling the wool through his fingers, Peter stared off into the distance. Slowing his breathing, he fell into a meditative mindset and allowed himself to just… be.

Moments later, a chime rang in his ears and he looked up when Friday informed him, “ **Peter, May is asking if you know what time it is.** ”

Blinking out of his own world, Peter looked around him. “Uuuhhh… around eight?”

“ **Incorrect. It’s nearing midnight and she wants to remind you that little boys need their sleep.** ”

Peter blinked and looked up at the small speaker in the corner of the room. “It’s twelve o’clock? But we just had dinner?”

“ **Peter…** ” Friday was silent for a moment before telling him in a voice that was soft and quiet. “ **You’ve been sitting in Miss Maximoff’s room for four hours and fifteen minutes.** ”

Peter blinked and slumped back. “Oh,” he uttered quietly and looked down. He'd lost time again. He scrubbed at his face and hauled himself to his feet. “Tell May that I’ll be in bed soon.”

“ **Yes, sir.** ”

Something rolling in his gut, Peter made his way back to the penthouse rooms. It wasn’t dread, but the feeling wasn’t light and fluffy either. He didn’t know what he was feeling. Regret, maybe? That he kept losing time? That even though he was back, he wasn’t? He sighed heavily and pushed the feeling down, telling himself that he would spend more time with May. 

He was home. He should stay here.

~~~~~

The next day, Peter was antsy—unable to stay still for very long. He knew why, but after years of slowing down, it was odd to be so full of energy again. He ran around the indoor training room a couple of times and fought with the bots, crushing some of them into scrap metal. Before, he’d been able to do that without much trouble, maybe working up a sweat after a couple of hours of exercise, but now, an hour in, he was winded and a little dizzy. Smacking the last bot to the ground, Peter took in a large gulp of air and cursed his body, hating his breathing. He rubbed at his sternum and concentrated on inhaling and exhaling, gritting his teeth when he felt the little blip between them.

It was midday when he emerged, making his way to the kitchen to get a drink. Tony was looking down at his tablet when Peter came in, but Peter didn’t pay him much attention, his eyes locked on what he wanted. Grabbing a glass, he filled it with cold water before leaning against the counter and gulping it down. Not wanting to fight with his breathing, he held it until the glass was empty. 

He was sipping at his second glass when he caught Tony looking at him. “What?”

The older man blinked and sat up. “Nothing.”

Peter raised a brow at that and Tony groaned. He scrubbed his flesh hand over his cheek, his scruff sounding like sandpaper. Peter crossed his arms over his chest and continued drinking, waiting him out. 

Finally, Tony pushed the tablet a little away from him and turned his full attention to Peter. “You’re breathing a little weird. You doing okay?”

Peter blinked and subconsciously pressed his palm against his sternum. He didn't think that Tony would catch that. Shrugging, he switched his glass to his other hand. “Apparently, I can’t do anything without upsetting it,” he groused, tapping his fingers on the lip of his cup. “I did some training and my lungs didn’t like it.”

“Oh.” Tony grimaced and looked down. He sighed heavily and rubbed his knuckles against his eye. “Kid… Friday told me that you lost about five hours last night.”

Peter paused, narrowing his eyes slightly. Did Friday tell him where he’d been? Looking over his mentor's face, he couldn’t tell if she had or not. “Did you make a new protocol?”

“No,” Tony said, too quickly.

Peter continued staring at him.

“Yes.”

“What’s the name?”

Tony looked offended at his bland tone. “Are you dissing my names?”

Peter didn’t even attempt to answer that. Looking up he asked, “Friday?”

“ **Boss activated the ‘Tick Tock Clock’ protocol three days ago to inform him or May if you lost more than two hours,** ” Friday cheerfully informed him which earned her a muttered ‘traitor’.

Peter looked back at his mentor, half heartedly glaring. Tony made a face, sticking out his tongue. Peter stopped himself from returning it. When he didn’t react, Tony sighed and slumped a little. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

Peter blinked. “For what?”

He sighed and pushed his tablet away to put his face in his hands, propping his elbows up on the counter. He was silent for a moment as he dragged them down. “Five years… it took me five years to get you back. I'm sorry I didn't get you out sooner. Maybe if I did, you wouldn't be struggling so much. Don't think I don't notice how hard it's been for you. Friday's told me every time you’ve spaced out. Then there’s the breathing and eating thing. If I'd been faster..”

“Hey, wait—no. Don’t do that,” Peter interrupted. “You did it. Focus on that, you and everyone else got us back. Sure, it took you awhile, but you did it.”

Tony sighed heavily. “Kid… I was kept in a cave for three months and I almost lost it at times, and I had someone with me. You... you were—” He grimaced and looked down. 

Peter stared at him, fighting to keep his jaw from hanging. Tony never brought up his time in Afghanistan, not willingly anyway. Maybe enough time had passed for Tony to be more open with it, but Peter wasn’t sure. He’d heard a bit about it before, but all he knew was that Tony had lost someone that he'd considered a friend. 

The pain etched on the older man’s face, at the mere idea of Peter being alone for so long, was almost enough for him to admit the truth—that he hadn’t been, that he’d had a friend with him, but something stopped his voice from working. He opened his mouth to reassure him, but Peter couldn’t tell him—Wanda was still too raw for him. The void in his mind felt like a pit he was going to fall into. He wondered if he already was.

Peter heaved a sigh and set his glass down beside the sink. “Mr. Stark, you fought your way out of that cave, you got us back. Everyone came back. Thanos is dead. You won. I’d rather be here than still stuck in that"—Peter cut off and he cleared his throat—“in the Soul World. Did it take awhile? Sure, but rushing into it didn’t do anything, did it?”

Tony chuckled, sounding more than a little tired and fed up. “Nope. Not a goddamn thing. We spent two years chasing our tails.”

Peter smirked. He wasn’t surprised by that. From his own memories and Wanda’s, he knew that the whole team could be dumbasses, save Natasha of course. She was always in control, and if she wasn’t, no one would point it out to her. Wanda had a healthy respect for the former assassin's temper, something that Clint often didn’t.

Before Peter could fall too far into memories that weren’t his—he had no one to pull him out of them—he took a deep breath. He wanted to lecture his mentor further, get him to realize that Peter didn’t blame him for anything, but he couldn’t find the words. Convincing Tony that he wasn’t at fault for something was like talking to a brick.

“ _~You’re one to talk,~_ ” a voice murmured at the back of his mind and Peter froze. He snapped his head up and looked around.

Tony blinked and lifted his head to look at him. “Kid?”

Peter didn’t really hear him and surveyed his surroundings, searching. That voice had sounded suspiciously like Wanda, chiding him on his less than healthy opinions of himself. A seed of hope budding in his chest, Peter extended his mental hand, searching for the nook in his mind where their mind link was.

It was cold and empty.

She wasn’t there—no one reached back at him, grabbing his hand with scarlet mist. His throat closed up and he swallowed thickly, acutely feeling the hole in his soul. God, he hadn’t felt so alone since Doctor Strange had walked away from him. 

“Peter?”

He jumped, snapping his head around to blink at Tony, who was staring at him with a resigned grimace. “You back with me?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah—I’m here. Sorry.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck and pushed away from the counter. “Sorry, Mr. Stark. I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

Peter nodded and jerked his head towards the hallway. “I’m going to go take a shower. I stink,” he mumbled, then before the man could ask further questions, he power walked from the room. From the pricking of his senses on the back of his neck, he knew that Tony’s eyes were following his retreat.

Once he got to his room—which was more like a suite—he ripped off his sweat soaked shirt, harshly throwing it on the floor. He gritted his teeth and tangled his fingers into his hair, tugging hard. He sank into a crouch and bent almost fully in half.

He was sick of this. He was used to the feeling of people being around him, but unable to touch any of them. Wanda and him had passed right through the spirits clogging the space around them. This feeling—this was worse. He was used to ghosts, but he’d never had one inside his head. 

He didn’t know what he would do if she became a physical one, too.

~~~~~

A few hours passed and Peter found himself pacing in front of the large windows looking out over the helipad. The tarmac was dark in the fading light, while the white H had an orange tinge to it. 

He used to like sunsets, but Peter couldn’t look at them anymore. The first dusk that he’d seen since coming back had sent him into a panic, reaching desperately for the mind that he was no longer attached to. It took May and Tony three hours to get him out of his head.

As he continued to walk back and forth, Peter’s sensitive hearing caught something and his ears twitched. It was Tony and Pepper, a floor below him and at the doors to the airmat. 

“Do you know where he is?” Pepper murmured, and Peter could practically see her standing beside him, perfect posture, as she looked at her husband. 

A rush of exhausted air accompanied Tony’s heavy sigh. “Above us, pacing. The others coming home has really affected him. He wouldn't tell me what’s wrong. He was even having trouble breathing earlier. I’m tempted to tell them to turn back, we can work this out when he’s better, but the less time Ross has to organize himself the better.”

Peter froze, heart lurching. He was going to send them away? But he needed to know if … Biting his lip, he shook his head and continued his march. 

Pepper was silent for a moment before she continued a little quieter, “He’ll be okay.”

“I know,” Tony murmured back to her, conviction strengthening his voice. Peter pressed his lips into a line and shoved his hands into his pockets, looking at his feet. He wished that he could share the man’s confidence. 

Silence hung between them for a moment before Tony spoke again. “It’s not just Steve and Nat.”

Peter froze, stiff as a board. He’d been midstep and he stumbled to a halt, his eyes wide and his lungs stopping. 

Pepper hummed questioningly and Tony continued, “Apparently, Wilson wouldn’t stay behind and let them walk into a bad situation without him.”

Oh. Peter didn’t move, not knowing if he should be relieved or disappointed. Logically, he knew that Wanda shouldn’t be anywhere near the states, but the thorn in his heart twisted. She wasn’t coming. He tried to tell himself that it was better for her to be safe, especially after all she’d gone through. 

Peter was still fighting with his emotions when Tony sighed. “And, Wanda insisted on returning, too. God, I have no idea why—Steve said that she wouldn’t tell them, but with the way she’s been acting, apparently they were worried that she would mind control them if they didn’t let her. Thankfully Barnes and Vision stayed behind.”

Peter snapped his gaze down to the floor as his chest burned. 

She was coming here? His thoughts screamed and jumbled together until it was a distressed mess. She was coming to the compound, in the flesh. He’d get to see her, see if she remembered him. If she did… he’d have his sister, his friend, back. He’d be able to hug her, laugh with her again. He could show her every movie that they’d talked about, get her to read some of his favourite English books. He’d finally get to show her him walking on the ceiling, his webs and… Dark spots danced around his vision and he noticed that he wasn’t breathing. Gasping in a big gulp of air, Peter tugged at his hair, his lungs more than happy for the clean oxygen. 

If she remembered, he reminded himself harshly, shaking his head. Pushing his hopes down, he looked out at the helipad and started pacing again.

Tony and Pepper continued to talk quietly, but Peter wasn’t interested in listening. He could hear them just fine, but he wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he turned his face to the sky, straining to hear the rumble of a Wakandian jet.

Ten minutes passed as he paced until the mechanical growl started to reach his ears. Snapping his head up, he looked to the darkening sky to see… nothing. That didn’t tell him anything, though. He knew that Wakanda had access to tech that made them invisible. Pressing himself up against the glass, he tilted his head skywards, searching.

There, coming out of camouflage, was the sleek, black shape of the craft descending towards them. Remembering what Tony had said about staying out of sight, Peter sank onto his haunches, getting as small as he could. He’d meant to leave and hide when they got there, but now knowing that Wanda was on that aircraft… he couldn’t lock himself away in his room. 

Peter’s muscles were tense and stiff as he watched the jet land elegantly on the white H. He tapped a finger against the glass nervously as he watched Tony and Pepper make their way to the lowering ramp. Peter was right about Pepper’s posture. She was holding her head high and standing perfectly straight as she marched forwards, keeping pace with her husband. 

Resting his forehead on the glass, Peter watched as people started to descend the walkway. Steve was in the lead, with Natasha at his elbow, her short blonde hair floating in the leftover gust from the turbines. Right after them was Sam Wilson, but Peter barely paid any attention to him, because beside him, walking with a purpose, was Wanda. 

His eyes locked onto her and he marveled at how much she matched his memories. The cuts and scrapes that had dotted her face were finally healed, but everything else was still the same. She was wearing the Scarlet Witch outfit and her auburn ginger hair floated around her face. When Peter squinted at bit, he swore he saw something crimson crackle around her. 

The Avengers slowed to a stop at the base of the door, Steve and Tony doing that man hug thing, while Pepper greeted Natasha with a smaller but equally affectionate squeezing embrace. They stepped back and Peter knew that they were talking but his hearing wasn’t good enough to make it out. He wasn’t Daredevil. 

The pleasantries that were bound to be going on continued for a little bit while Peter watched Wanda, desperate for anything that would give him an idea if she remembered. 

It didn’t take long. 

Wanda wasn’t looking at the friends reuniting. She was turned towards the compound, even walking a bit passed Pepper to look closer at the building. Now, that in and of itself could mean anything, like her wanting to be inside and out of sight or even just wanting to be home—she had called it that a couple of times. 

No, the thing that decided it was when her eyes caught his. Her green eyes lit up, a hesitant smile twitching at her lips, and she made an aborted gesture to him. 

Throat closing up, he tapped two fingers to his temple, hope building. Her smile grew to cover half of her face and she flicked red tinted fingers at him. A scarlet rope danced its way to him, and he watched as it passed through the glass. His breathing hitched as her magic circled and squeeze his chest before it clung to his head. Immediately their minds linked, falling back into familiar places, and her feelings of joy and relief washed over him.

He didn’t need any more convincing. 

He dashed away from the window, running to the closest fire escape. He jumped down to the bottom of the stairwell and raced outside. She was running at him, too elated for thoughts to form properly. They both heard shouts and calls to ‘come back here’ or ‘get back inside’ but they both ignored them. Peter, being the physically enhanced one, ran most of the distance between them, and within moments, they reached each other. 

They didn’t say anything but met each other in an automatic hug, clinging desperately to each other’s shoulders, Peter’s grip being a bit tighter than it should have been. This was the right hug, the one that he’d been missing to the point that is was painful. 

“*Peter, my little brother. You’re okay. I’m here. I'm here,*” she whispered in Sokovian, rocking him back and forth. It was a ridiculously maternal gesture, but he didn’t care. Instead it warmed his heart as much as it did for Wanda. 

Peter sobbed and pressed his face into her hair and started blubbering. “*You faded, then I faded, and I woke up back on Titan and none of the dusted could remember—not even Doctor Strange. I wanted to find you, I did, but I didn't know if you would remember me, so I didn't say anything. I couldn’t. What if I'd said something and then you had no idea who I was. It already hurt so much. I didn’t want to add to that and—and…*”

“*Shhhh*,” she soothed, petting his hair. “*It’s okay. I'm here. I remember you. It’s okay.*”

He whimpered and clung to her. She murmured a couple more word in Sokovian, sending comfort and understanding through their link. She pressed a kiss against his cheek and a couple of tears fell from her eyes, be it from her own emotions or feeding off his.

They stayed like that until Peter’s hearing caught hold of running feet and they looked up to see the other Avengers rushing after them. 

His feet thudding on the tarmac, Tony slowed to a stop a bit away from him, his face twisted in confusion, his eyes flickering back and forth between the two of them. “Uhhhhh… What’s going on here?” 

Steve was right beside him, his now shaven face showing the frown he was giving them. From Wanda’s memories, he knew that it wasn’t an angry frown but I’m-not-sure-what’s-going-on-here frown. Natatasha and Pepper were a little slower, the CEO trotting up to them in her five inch heels.

Wanda and Peter looked at them from their embrace, unwilling to let go just yet. They stared at the older heroes as their minds scrambled to figure out what to say. 

Peter was still hesitant to speak up, his habit of keeping everything close to his chest rearing its head. Wanda’s silence was due to her not wanting to break away from being with her brother, someone else who had been ripped from her. 

Peter’s heart swelled at the fact that she’d placed him on the same pedestal as Pietro—or something close to it. It had taken him a while to get her to open up to him. 

Wanda shifted and pressed her cheek to the crown of his head. “ _~Of course I think of you that way, *brother,* you doubt yourself too much,~_ ” she whispered mentally. 

He blinked back fresh tears and dropped his head to her shoulder. “ _~What do you want to say?~_ ”

She didn’t. A part of her wanted to keep this to themselves. The last time she’d opened up to people with a brother she lost him. 

Peter nudged her with his nose. “ _~I’m not going anywhere.~_ ”

“ _~You can’t promise that,~_ ” she whispered, her mental voice quiet. Flashes of Vision being killed, both times, flickered in her mind and the stabbing pain of Pietro’s passing stung his chest.

Peter hugged her tighter.

“Kid?” Tony cut in. “What’s going on?”

Peter glanced at his mentor, seeing all the heroes staring at them. Biting his lip, he finally admitted, “It’s a little complicated.”

Tony cocked his head. “Yeah? You going to explain it? What about you, Wanda? When did you get so chummy with him?”

Wanda opened her mouth, annoyance flaring, but Natasha was the one that spoke up, “Tony, we don’t even know who this kid is.”

Tony blinked and looked at her. “Oh, right—this is Peter, who really should be hiding right now,” he added with gritted teeth, his eyes scanning the sky.

Peter winced as Steve and Natasha both reacted to his name, the captain inhaling sharply, while she blinked and slid her eyes to him, eyes widening slightly. They had obviously heard of him before. Sam was still looking at everyone with a contemplative frown. 

“ _~He was one of the dusted,~_ ” Wanda supplied to him silently.

“ _~Ah~_ ”

“Tony’s right,” Pepper started as she stepped forwards. “We’re only asking for trouble by staying out here. The kids can explain when we’re inside.”

[](https://ibb.co/7v4qrT2)" alt="together again" />

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm taking a little longer to update my fics so I'm going to tell you which way I like to do so. I have three fics in the works right now and I love them equally so I'm cycling through them chapter by chapter as I go. so the next one to get an update will be Long Time Coming. 
> 
> also, you can find a larger version of the picture over on my [tumblr](https://heatherica45.tumblr.com/)


	6. Answers and Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> explanations are given

Peter and Wanda didn’t let go of each other on the way to the common living room, their hands linked tightly. The eyes of the older heroes pricked at Peter’s senses and made his skin crawl. He waited for one of them to comment, but strangely, none of them did. They were most likely waiting until they were settled before they started the interrogation. 

Squeezing his hand, Wanda thought to him. “ _~They’re not that bad.~_ ”

“ _~I know,~_ ” he assured her, looking down at his feet. “ _~I just don’t know how to start.~_ ”

“ _~Do you want me to?~_ ”

Before Peter could decide anything, they made their way into the large open space of the common area, moving to the soft leather couches.

A smile split across Wanda’s face and she dragged him to the nearest one and flopped down. “God, I missed these.”

Peter laughed and sat on her legs, making her grunt. “Get off,” she grumbled with her face in the cushions.

“Nope, you’re taking up the whole thing—deal with the consequences of your actions.”

She sighed dramatically and turned her face, so her cheek was pressed into the pale material. “You’re a pain.”

“Yup,” Peter agreed, popping the p.

“As adorable as that was,” an amused voice cut in. “We still need answers from the two of you.”

They looked up in unison to see Natasha settling on the corner of the adjacent couch closest to Wanda’s head. Her lips were twitching into a soft smile, and she lifted her legs to tuck her feet up and under her. Folding her hands on her knees, she regarded them with half-lidded eyes. She didn’t react when Pepper sat beside her, crossing her ankles and leaning back, her sharp eyes watching them as well. They were probably going to get stared at a lot that night.

Peter and Wanda exchanged a look. He was still apprehensive, the unpleasant feeling rolling in his gut. She didn’t have the same kneejerk urge to run. She’d been at the end of scrutiny too many times for her to know she could get away from it. Also, she trusted that they would treat them fairly, especially if Natasha was so calm about it.

Squeezing their still linked hands, Wanda rolled onto her side and slid her legs out from under him. Since his weight was practically nothing—thank you, spider bite—she easily sat up and bumped her shoulder with his. “Ready?”

Peter took a deep breath. “Yeah… Friday? Can you call Aunt May down? She should hear this too.” 

“ **You got it,** ” the Irish AI chirped back at him and Peter nodded in thanks. 

Wanda perked up and looked at him, a smile stretching across her face. “May’s here.” 

It wasn’t a question, since Peter knew that his aunt was there—Wanda just hadn’t accessed the information yet. 

Peter nodded anyway. 

Tony, who had plopped down on the couch parallel to theirs, raised a brow at her. “You know May?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, dragging her eyes from the entryways to look at the man. Her tone was genuinely confused, like she couldn’t understand why she shouldn’t. 

Tony frowned, tilting his head before glancing at Steve, who sat down beside his old friend. The captain shook his head. “I don’t know either.”

“This doesn't make any sense,” Tony told them flatly. “You shouldn’t know each other.”

Wanda frowned, tilting her head to the side, not unlike Peter would when he was confused. Peter copied the motion and glanced between her and his mentor. Natasha’s eyes twitched slightly, while still looking amused and curious. 

Sam sat down on the same couch as her and Pepper, resting his arm on the back. “Clearly they do—where did you two meet?”

Peter winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Technically? A year before the snap. I ran into her at an airport.”

Tony snorted and shook his head, while Wanda laughed into her hand. The other heroes looked confused, while a colder look crossed over Natasha's face. Her eyes narrowed, flicking down to his wrists. Following her gaze, he noticed that he was rubbing his thumb against the one holding Wanda’s hand, where his web-shooter would normally be. 

He dropped his hand. 

Natasha caught that, too, her lips twitching into a smirk, and she gave him a slow blink. Yeah, he was not fooling her. That’s okay. He knew that she wouldn’t put him at risk. 

“He’s not wrong.” Wanda chuckled. “He was having a bit of car trouble and his guardian wasn’t doing much to help.”

“Hey!” Tony squawked. “I helped!”

Her lips curling upwards, she lifted her brows at him, her expression loudly asking ‘ _really_.' “He got a black eye.”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest mulishly. “I told him to stay back.”

Peter snorted and nudged her. “He did—give him that at least. It was my fault that I didn't listen.”

Wanda grunted, tilting her head, but before anyone could argue more, light footsteps caused Peter to twitch. He twisted around the back of the couch and smiled at the woman ducking into the room, her eyes glancing around from behind her large glasses. They darted around at the heroes before landing on him. “Peter? Friday said that you wanted to talk to me?”

Peter smiled at his aunt and was opening his mouth to invite her over when Wanda let go of him. Jumping from the couch, she darted over to May with a large grin on her face. Before the older woman could do anything, the witch had enveloped her into a crushing hug.

May yelped at the sudden embrace. “Oh, okay, hugging now, that’s okay—hello to you, too,” she stammered and returned the hug, awkwardly patting the girl on the back.

Wanda pulled away, her smile dimming, keeping her hands on May’s upper arms. She blinked owlishly at her, May mirroring her confused expression. They stood in shocked silence for a moment before Peter broke it.

“Crap, no—Wanda—” he cursed and launched himself fluidly off the couch and over to them. Skidding to a stop beside Wanda, he placed a hand on her shoulder. When she looked at him he stressed, “She’s never met _you_.”

Wanda opened her mouth to retort that, her memories of the woman swimming through their link, before abrupt realization dawned. They weren’t _her_ memories—they were _his_. Her head whipped back to May, who was standing patiently, watching them. Her expression was open and friendly, but there was no recognition when her gaze turned to Wanda.

Wanda snatched her hands back like she was burned. Placing them on her mouth, she stumbled away from the woman. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

May’s expression softened and she smiled kindly. “It’s okay. I’m fine with giving random hugs. Sometimes, that’s all people need.”

Wanda’s eyes glistened and Peter wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him and tucked her bowed face into his hair. “*She had no idea who I am,*" she sobbed quietly in Sokovian.

Peter knocked his head against hers and started rubbing circles on her shoulder with his thumb, but otherwise, he didn’t comment. 

May’s eyebrows furrowed in worry. Looking at her nephew, she stepped towards them. “Is she okay?”

Peter smiled, nodding. Jerking his head back to the seating area, he said, “Come sit and I’ll explain everything.”

May nodded and they quickly settled on their abandoned couch. Wanda composed herself—wiping away the few tears on her cheeks. They sat with Peter in the center, Wanda closest to Natasha. May settled on the other end, turned slightly so she could face the kids. 

“What’s going on?” she started, focusing on her nephew. “I thought Tony wanted us to stay hidden when they got here.” Her gaze flicked to the circle of heroes, even though her tone was soft and unacusing. 

Steve frowned and looked to Tony, who shook his head. “That’s more for when General Tanya comes tomorrow. Granted, I wanted to wait till you guys were settled before introducing you to these two. Although, that didn’t seem to be everyone's plan,” he added with a look to Peter.

Peter, as a testament to his time in the Soul Stone, just shrugged at the gentle reprimand. He didn’t see the point in being defensive—Tony was right, he hadn’t followed the plan. 

Steve nodded. “Not a bad idea. It’s nice to meet you,” he added, looking towards the Parkers. 

May smiled warmly at him. “Likewise. Although, I’m a little startled that it’s even happening,” she admitted with a little laugh. “I’m May Parker and this is my nephew—Peter.”

Steve chuckled at her comment before his eyes flicked back to Peter. “You’re Tony’s intern, right?”

Peter hesitated before nodding. “Is that the only thing that you know about me?” he asked tentatively. 

“I know,” Natasha interjected. “But you already knew that,” she added with a smirk. Peter sighed and hung his head, rubbing his cheek.

Pepper lightly smacked the spy on the arm. “Don’t tease him too much.”

Natasha’s lips twitched further up on her face but she held her hands up in surrender.

“Okay, wait—you know him?” Sam interjected, leaning forward to raise a brow at her. “Do you know what’s going on here?”

Natasha shook her head. “I’ve met the kid, and I know who he is—but I've never had the time to get to know him. Although,” she added, her eyes shifting towards Wanda, “I get the feeling that it’s easy to love him.”

Peter’s face reddened and he ducked his head, causing Wanda to chuckle and nudge him. He elbowed her and got his knee slapped. He frowned at her, but before it could go any further, Pepper cleared her throat. They look up to her raised brow and sheepishly settled down.

While that was going on, Tony laughed. “Oh it is—but that’s not why we’re here. Pete, you going to start talking?”

Sitting up, Peter nodded. “Um, yeah. Right—okay.” He paused and chewed on his lip. “Although, for it to make any sense, I kinda have to tell them.”

Tony straightened, his expression opening in his worry. “You sure? You don’t have to.”

“I trust them.” 

Tony blinked, his jaw opening and closing. He looked to Wanda and back to him. He jerked a thumb in her direction. “This newfound trust has to do with her, doesn't it?”

Peter nodded. His earlier avoidance had been more out of habit than any wish to keep Spider-Man from them. Also, he knew he’d have to explain how he could remember when everyone else did not, and that required outing himself.

The mechanic pursed his lips then nodded, sitting back into his chair. “Okay, enlighten us.”

Peter’s eyes glanced shyly around the room, hesitating. He’d said that he trusted them, and he did, but his anxiety was starting to close up his throat. Wanda shifted, and he suddenly felt the comfortable weight of her leaning against him. He squeezed her hand back when she took hold of his.

“Okay, so,” he started nervously and licked his lips. “You’ve all met me before—not just Wanda and Ms. Romanoff.”

Natasha lips twitched amusedly. “Natasha is fine.”

Peter blinked at her and nodded slowly as Sam and Steve traded confused looks. “When did this happen?” the pararescue asked.

Peter’s eyes drifted to him and he shrugged. “When you guys were fighting about the accords—at the airport in Germany.”

Sam blinked a couple of times and shifted in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t remember a twelve year old being in that fight.”

Peter scowled at him. “I was 15.”

“That’s not any better, and it doesn't explain any—oh,” he gasped and pointed at him. “You’re the bug guy that wouldn’t shut up!”

“Hey!” Peter cried out indignantly then whipped his head around to stare at his aunt when he heard the snort that she was covering with her hand. “May!”

No longer trying to hide her grin, she shrugged. “He’s not wrong. You’ve always been a chatterbox.”

Peter was giving her a look of betrayal when Steve spoke up. “You’re Spider-Man?”

Peter paused and flicked his eyes towards the super soldier where he was casually sitting on the couch beside Tony. His expression was open and curious, his eyebrows raised in something similar to respect. 

Tony turned and looked at the old soldier as Peter squinted at him. “You’re not going to yell at me?” the younger asked, disbelief lacing his tone.

Steve chuckled and shook his head. “No. I would have been doing the same thing if the war had started when I was a teen. There were enough doing it anyway. When kids like that get it into their heads to fight, discouraging them will only make them push you away. You can only prepare them.” He looked to Tony and smiled at his gobsmacked expression. “That’s what you were trying to do with the Stark suit, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” he admitted and shook himself out of it. “That’s exactly what I was doing.”

Steve raised a brow at him before turning back to the kids. “You were on Titan with Tony when it happened, right?”

Peter’s muscles tightened at the name and he bit his cheek. His throat closing, he started to think his answer to the man, before stopping himself and nodding. 

Wanda laced their fingers together again before asking silently. “~ _Do you want me to take over?~_ ”

Shaking his head, Peter took a deep, long breath before exhaling slowly. “Yeah, yeah, I was. That’s where my explanation starts,” he admitted. 

Tony’s eyes lit up and he leaned forward, giving him the same attention he would when Peter would ramble about what he’d been working on. The small little mannerism warmed his heart, reminding him that some things were still the same. Taking comfort in that, Peter cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. 

“I’m not sure if Tony told you anything about my time after being dusted, but I experienced it a little different from everyone else.” A quick glance around his audience confirming that they knew, Peter continued. “No one remembers the time being gone. That’s common knowledge, right?” he added, sending a pointed look towards Sam.

“Right.” He nodded, a grimace twisting his mouth.

Peter nodded, taking a deep breath. “I did. Doctor Strange remembers some, too, but not nearly as much as I do. To him, it’s more like a half forgotten dream.” Peter paused and looked down at his hands. He picked at his nails, unnecessarily cleaning dirt out from under them. His voice falling into a flat, unemotional tone as he went on to explain what the Soul World was like. The vast, empty plains of water and the constant red/orange sky. He recounted his conversation with Strange and the ghosts milling about everywhere. It was more detail then he’d gone into with them before, and he saw everyone’s faces slacken with shock.

As he spoke, Natasha’s eyes landed on Wanda, the lines of her face softening. She looked almost sad. 

“Jesus.” Sam breathed and he shook his hand. “Man, I do not envy you. If I was a mindless ghost for five years, I'm glad that I don’t remember it.”

Peter’s lips twitched into a wry smile. “Can’t say I blame you.” Sam chuckled and they shared a small laugh before Peter’s amusement fell. Focusing back onto Tony and May, he gripped Wanda’s hand a little tighter. “Before, I told you that I spent five years alone—that was a lie.”

May’s breath hitched and Peter heard her heart rate increase. Tony blinked and his eyes snapped to Wanda, who gave him a little nod. Taking that as a cue, she spoke up. “I was with him. I also remembered the five years in the stone.”

The adults stared at them, stunned for a moment before Tony exhaled and slumped in his chair. “Oh thank _god_. You weren’t alone.”

Wanda frowned at his reaction and glanced to Peter, arching a brow. He tipped his head and opened his memory of his earlier conversation with the man. Once she’d absorbed it, her lips parted a little and she stared at the mechanic. “~ _He carries far more guilt than I thought he did.~_ ”

Peter nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing. 

May sat forwards and reached out, placing her hand on Wanda’s. The girl jumped and looked up, wide eyed, to see the older woman smiling at her. “That’s why you hugged me—he told you stories, didn’t he?”

Wanda hesitated and glanced at Peter, who shared her apprehension. This should have been the part where they told them about the mental link, explain to May that Wanda didn’t just know her, she _knew_ her. Everything that Peter remembered about his aunt, she shared that knowledge. The same for Peter and the people that Wanda was close to.

It would be easy, just open their mouths and tell the adults, but... they didn’t. Their link was _theirs_ , and sharing it… they just couldn’t do it. It shouldn't have mattered so much, but something about it was too private, too intimate between the Soul World survivors. Plus, they’d just been reunited and didn’t want to be ripped apart again. Not saying that the other’s would force them to cut their link but… the risk was there. Neither of them were willing to chance it. They kept silent. 

Wanda smiled at May and nodded, letting go of Peter to squeeze her hand back. “Yeah, there wasn’t much else _to_ do, except tell stories.”

May snorted, bobbing her head in a gentle nod. Rubbing her thumb over Wanda’s wrist, she was quiet for a moment before looking up. “Do you want a proper hug now?”

Wanda’s breath hitched and she gripped May’s hand tighter. “Please?”

May chuckled and got up, reaching towards her. Wanda practically jumped up and rushed to hug her again, squeezing tight. May seemed to love the enthusiasm, smiling wide as she wrapped her arms around the girl. Peter lifted his legs onto the couch to give them space, not bothering to stop the grin stretching over his face. 

Wanda _loved_ May. When he’d first learned that she had no definite maternal figures, he’d gone a little overboard with his stories of his aunt. Sure, she’d had her mother when she was little, but the bomb took both of her parents when she was ten. She’d been too young to really remember her. Since then, Wanda and Pietro only had each other. The orphanage had too many kids for the workers to imprint on either of them. 

Which was completely opposite to Peter’s own situation after losing his parents. Aunt May and Uncle Ben might as well have been his parents by the way he was attached to them. Don’t get him wrong, he still loved Tony as a father, but Ben was the first paternal figure he’d had. The one that raised him alongside May. 

Wanda didn’t have that—just her twin.

Peter was tapped out of his thoughts by a gentle mental prod and he looked up to see Wanda looking down at him, a small shadow darkening her face. She'd obviously heard or sensed where his thoughts had gone.

Shooting May a final, grateful smile, she let go of her to sit beside Peter, snuggling up close. He accepted her comfort immediately and rested his head on her shoulder. He closed his eyes when he felt her chin on his crown. Peter melted into her gentle companionship—letting her presence wrap around him like a blanket. A secure shield that he’d lost for too long, even if it was only seven days or so. 

Wanda smiled at the boy tucked into her side and shifted a little closer, lacing her fingers with his. Warmth flooded her veins, the pleasant feeling stemming not only from being linked to Peter again, but the Heroes around them were sending out waves of affection and love as they watched. Wanda’s eyes flicked up to the strongest source and saw that Pepper was staring at them, her eyes the softest that she’d seen them. Sure, the woman had given Peter that look plenty of times, but Wanda had never been physically at the end of it. 

Pepper caught her gaze and she smiled warmly, her lips curling upwards. She gave her a nod before turning away, her eyes searching the group. Staying still, Wanda watched as Pepper’s smile grew and she rose, walking over to another couch. Steve blinked up at her, and clueing into what she was up to, shifted so she could sit beside Tony. Pepper smiled to him in thanks then settled beside her husband, cuddling into his side. Tony, for his part, grinned gently at his wife and opened his arms to tuck her securely against him.

Watching them, Wanda’s lips twitched into a small smirk. It was nice to know that her and Peter being close to each other incited such a sweet reaction from the adults.

**Author's Note:**

> Сестра (Ukrainian/Sokovian) - sister 
> 
>  
> 
> Hey! Nice to see people again :)
> 
> Kudos and Comments are welcome :)
> 
> My [Tumblr](https://heatherica45.tumblr.com/) cause I have some art over there
> 
> Big thanks to my Beta [Snarkymuch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymuch/pseuds/snarkymuch) for putting up with this plot bunny


End file.
